


hold me closer (tiny dancer)

by serenacampbell



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Pole Dancing, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, kind of, smol amount of angst but is it rly one of my fics if there isn't, stripper!Bernie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2018-10-11 02:22:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 77,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10452828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenacampbell/pseuds/serenacampbell
Summary: Serena decides the best way to explore her confused sexuality is to get a lap dance, but gets more than she bargained for when her dancer turns out to be the object of her desires: Bernie Wolfe.





	1. an invitation

**Author's Note:**

> So I finished mixtape so that I wouldn't be working on a fic whilst I started my new degree, but here I am with another multi chapter fic just days later :)) This is nothing as serious as that, just a bit of smutty fun that was the product of me listening to Tiny Dancer on repeat for a few days and also drinking too much 
> 
> I'm posting this chapter now to see if this is the sort of thing anyone would actually like to read, so let me know if you want any more! 
> 
> Enjoy :)

_But oh, how it feels so real_

_Lying here with no one near_

_Only you, and you can hear me_

_When I say softly, slowly_

 

_Hold me closer,[tiny dancer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoskDZRLOCs)_

_Count the headlights on the highway_

_Lay me down in sheets of linen_

_You had a busy day today_

* * *

It was Fletch's idea. Or, rather, that's what she keeps telling herself.

"Don't whack it 'til you've tried it," he had said, after she had made some casual remark about her curiosity surrounding the fairer sex, and it had sparked a sort of resolve inside her: she would test the waters, try and work out her newfound desires, get everything straight in her head before she went and made a fool of herself by making public her bizarre sapphic mid-life crisis, with no strings attached. But how could she do that? There was only one answer, she felt. 

A strip club. 

She hadn't even intended to go there. It wasn't usually the sort of thing she agreed with, morally or otherwise, but tonight, feeling particularly vulnerable after a long, testing shift and a lonely night at Albies - Bernie always seemed to be busy, after the divorce - she found herself seemingly on autopilot. Usually, she would walk past the club on her way home, regard it with disgust and disapproval, albeit mild curiosity, before continuing on her way. But not tonight. No, she’s too worked up for that. And there’s only one woman to blame. 

For her entire life, Serena has been comfortable in her sexuality. More than, in fact. She can flirt with other women, tease them no end, without even the slightest desire to take anything further. She uses her sexuality as a lure, a tool for getting what she wants, for swaying situations in her favour, but shehas never, ever considered pursing any of it. That is until Bernie Wolfe, of course. 

As was her nature, she had flirted with the trauma medic upon her arrival at Holby, befriended her, teased her, but even early on she could tell something was different here. And then she had taken her hand in hers, arm wresting over the trivial issue of who got to pull a tap out of an unfortunate patient's rear, and suddenly the flirtation turned into something all too real. She'll never forget it, the burning that began in the pit of her belly and between her thighs as their eyes locked and their fingers intertwined. And it hasn't stopped burning since, so bad that Serena can hardly stand to be in the same room as the woman, her arousal so strong that she can barely trust herself to keep her hands off her. She needs a resolve. Desperately. 

So here she is, in the main bar area of the club, sipping an extortionately priced glass of house red and keeping her eyes anywhere but the scantily clad women strutting around the place. She wonders for a moment who they are, what their stories are, if they are happy in their work, before quickly shaking her head at herself, willing herself to relax, to focus. That isn't what she’s here for. 

Almost as soon as she is sat at one of the low tables, a dancer appears in the chair opposite. She is young, maybe in her early twenties, wearing what could be a swimsuit along with fishnet hold-ups and the largest platform stilettos she's ever seen. The girl introduces herself as Scarlet and begins chatting away. Serena tells her that she's never been to a place like this before, and her posture softens slightly. 

"Well, there's no need to be nervous," she smiles, resting a hand on Serena's thigh. Serena freezes beneath her touch. "I'll show you the ropes. Would you like a dance now?" 

Serena is still unsure about the whole thing, but decides that it’s now or never. She drains the remainder of her glass before allowing Scarlet to lead her down a corridor just off the main bar to a row of private dancing booths. Her heart is in her throat as she pays her fee, removes her coat and jacket and sits down in one of the velvet seats. 

Scarlet is just sidling up to her when Serena baulks. This isn't right. 

"I'm sorry," she blurts out, her words shaky. "I just... you're young enough to be my daughter. In fact, probably exactly the same age." She chuckles nervously. "You wouldn't happen to have anyone a like more... mature, would you?" 

The girl looks slightly disappointed, but then nods. "I'll just go see if she's available," she says kindly, with sympathy. 

"Thank you," Serena sighs in relief. "You can keep the fee I paid to you." Scarlet beams thankfully, leaning forward and giving Serena a warm peck on the cheek before disappearing to find another dancer. 

Serena leans back in the chair, closing her eyes and allowing herself to relax a moment, taking deep breaths. She starts to wonder if this had really been the best idea. Could she ever feel truly comfortable paying for something like this? Is this really the best way to go about resolving her sexuality crisis? She runs a hand over her face tiredly. _You're here now_ , she tells herself. _Just go with it._

She feels, rather than sees the new dancer's presence in the room, and for a few moments keeps her eyes closed, partially willing that this is all a dream, that she hasn't gotten into this. _Just relax and enjoy it._

A familiar voice cuts through her thoughts. 

“Oh my god, Serena!”

Serena's heart stops in her chest, and she opens her eyes to see in front of her the object of all her desires, dressed in a tight fitted camouflage bodysuit, dark stockings and killer heels. For a moment, she wonders if this might actually be a dream, and blinks hard to make sure, but still Bernie stands before her, a look of absolute horror on her face. 

“Serena, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise,” she gapes, holding her hand over her mouth in shock as Serena mirrors her expression, her eyes widening and struggling to tear themselves away from Bernie’s exposed skin. 

“No, Bernie, I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t be here,” Serena stammers, her words coming out in a breathless rush as she scrambles up out of the chair. “I don’t know what I was thinking—“

“No, no. When Scarlet said a woman in her fifties called Serena I should have… bloody hell…” She despairs, holding a hand to her forehead, the other wrapped around her stomach protectively. 

“I— I should go,” Serena stutters, reaching for her bag and coat. “I’m so sorry you had to—“ 

“No, wait,” Bernie sighs, grabbing Serena’s elbow as she passes her. “Stay. Let’s get a drink. I think I owe you an explanation.” She grimaces, though her eyes soften slightly as they meet Serena’s. Serena allows her shoulders to fall, her heart tensing as Bernie leads the way out to the main bar area. She leans over the counter, and Serena averts her eyes as she finds herself face to face with the perfect behind that she spends the majority of her days imagining the sight of.

“Here,” Bernie nudges Serena out of her thoughts, and she turns back to see that she has retrieved a full bottle of Shiraz and two large glasses. They go and sit at a table in the corner of the main bar area, and Bernie pours them both a glass. 

“Look, I’m really sorry, Bernie,” Serena starts, wringing her hands together. “I didn’t mean to— I had no idea—“ 

“Don’t apologise.” She holds her hands up, shaking her head. “It’s my fault, I… God, I’m too old for this.” She barks out a laugh and Serena frowns. “I used to dance when I was younger,” Bernie begins, by way of explanation. “Paid for pretty much my entire living and education costs when I was first training, until I met Marcus of course. And now he’s bleeding me dry I thought I’d take up the old talent, earn a bit of extra money. The army has kept me in good enough physical condition, and it’s not like I’ve gotten too out of practice; Marcus and Alex both liked to watch me dance, you see.” Serena raises her eyebrows, trying her hardest to fight the images Bernie’s words provoke. 

“I— If you’re in trouble, I can always lend you—“

“No, Serena, I don’t want your charity,” she cuts her off. “I’m fine, I love dancing. I’d rather be making extra money this way than pulling double twelve hour shifts. I think that would just about finish me off, at my age. I just…” She shakes her head, looking down at her glass. “I’m getting on a bit, business isn’t as good as it was once upon a time. It’s not most people’s first thought when they come to a place like this, they want the younger dancers instead.”

“Except me,” Serena blurts out, before she can hold her tongue. Bernie doesn’t seem to notice the implication, instead barks out a laugh. 

“Yes, except you,” she smiles fondly, her fringe shading her eyes. “I think you’re the first person we’ve ever had in that’s asked for someone older. I do hope you’ve started a trend.” She grins. Serena nearly chokes on her wine. 

"Well," she coughs, holding her hand to her mouth. "They'd be pretty blind not to be queuing up for you." She smiles at her friend in a way which she hopes conveys support rather than the lust she is feeling. 

Bernie chuckles. "You'll make me blush," she jokes. Serena can see her cheeks have turned a little rosier, but that could easily be the wine. It’s starting to affect Serena too; she had had a bottle to herself in Albies, along with the large glass on her arrival here and now has almost finished the rather big measure that Bernie had poured for her. She’s feeling more than a little loose. 

“I mean it,” she continues. “You’re a very attractive woman. I don’t blame you for taking advantage of that.” She gazes at the older woman seriously. 

Bernie looks down into her glass, smirking. “Thank you,” she murmurs, almost shyly. “If only my customers felt the same.” 

“I _am_ a customer,” Serena replies, before she can think otherwise. Bernie stares at her contemplatively, before laughing heartily. 

“Yes, of course,” she smiles knowingly. “And I’m holding you back. There’s another more mature dancer working tonight, though still not as old as us I’m afraid. I’ll just go get her for you.” She stands. Serena grabs her by the wrist. 

“That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly, pulling her back down a little too enthusiastically. She takes a large mouthful of Shiraz. 

"I don't mind, honestly," Bernie laughs, eyeing Serena curiously. "Don't let me hold you back. Go enjoy your evening." 

Serena shakes her head. “You’re not busy are you?” She asks, her voice wobbling slightly at the end. She drains the rest of the glass. 

Bernie pauses, her eyes narrowing. “No,” she says slowly, a slight frown creeping onto her face. “You’re not suggesting—“ 

“Of course not!” Serena interrupts hastily, averting her eyes as much as possible from Bernie’s slender curves hidden beneath the tight bodysuit. She coughs. “I mean, I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.” 

Bernie laughs, though her eyes remain firmly on Serena. “On the contrary,” she replies, her voice low. “I would hate to make _you_ uncomfortable.”

“You could never do that,” Serena murmurs, her eyes still on table. She hesitates, before adding, “Well, only in a good way.” She looks up nervously to see that the older woman’s eyes have darkened slightly. Something shifts in her glance, as if she’s seeing Serena in an entirely different light. Serena swallows thickly. _What have I done?_ She takes a deep breath, looking away and slapping her hands on her thighs. 

"Well, I, er... I'd better—" 

"You'd really want a dance from _me?"_ Bernie asks suddenly, her eyes wide and unreadable. Serena's stomach twists. 

"I just... Well, I, um..." Serena stammers, her mouth opening and closing helplessly. "I was just saying I think anyone would be crazy not to want a... dance from you."

"Including yourself?" Bernie quirks an eyebrow, a slight tease in her eyes. Serena's heart stops in her chest. She needs to consider her next words carefully. 

"Is that... an offer?" Serena asks slowly, her heart pounding as though she has just sprinted a marathon. Her palms are sweaty, her legs trembling as she watches the older woman, sees the darkness in her eyes, the slight tensing of her posture, the ghost of a smirk on her lips. 

Bernie allows her eyes to drift down to the table, or is she looking at Serena? "No," she murmurs, "I prefer to call it... an invitation?" She half smiles at her, that squinty smile she does when she’s trying to appear more confident in her words than she feels. Serena can’t breathe, can’t think. Bernie was suggesting... How can she possibly? 

They are colleagues, they are friends - some might say best friends. Could she really _pay_ for Bernie to… Would she be taking advantage? It’s not as though she’s doing it against her will - she seems to actively _want_ to dance for her - but would she feel the same if she knew how Serena truly feels about her? If she knew that her friend had been lusting after her for weeks now, months, would she feel like Serena was taking advantage? Would she hate her for doing this? 

But Serena is selfish. The wine has gotten to her, as has the sight of her friend in such a state of undress. Arousal throbs between her legs just at the thought of Bernie being so close, twisting and twirling and gyrating. Can she really resist that opportunity?

Bernie cocks an eyebrow at her as she decides. 

She reaches into her coat pocket, pulls out her fee, slides it across the glass table between them. 


	2. so slide over here and give me a moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so SO much for all the support on the previous chapter - I had no idea people would like this so much! Please do keep letting me know your thoughts, it really helps to motivate me :)
> 
> We are now NSFW so be aware of that. I would say this is VERY NSFW but not quite yet;) 
> 
> Also, since so many people liked the music aspect of mixtape I've decided to include a song for each striptease.
> 
> Enjoy!

_[Song for this chapter: Need You Tonight - INXS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?hl=pl&v=w-rv2BQa2OU&gl=PL) _

* * *

 Bernie reaches out slowly, picks up the proffered notes, counts them, pushes half back across the table. 

"Call it mates' rates," she winks. 

The air is electric, Serena's senses heightened impossibly by her arousal to the extent that even the sensation of the cool glass of the table beneath her fingertips seems too much. She thinks she might swoon. Her legs are trembling, so much so that she can barely trust herself to stand, but then Bernie is towering above her, her eyes dark and her lips pouted and her hand outstretched for Serena to take. She feels dizzy as she takes Bernie's hand, her arousal throbbing harder just at the skin-on-skin contact. How is she going to survive this?

She follows obediently as Bernie leads her back to the row of booths in which she first caught sight of the trauma medic. This time, the warm red lights feel more oppressive than erotic as she fights to keep her breaths steady. She’s glad when Bernie pushes her down into the seat. 

"Let me take your things," she mumbles as an afterthought, quickly grabbing Serena's coat and bag and placing them on the floor across from the booth. Serena pauses for a moment, before shucking off her outer blouse too. Bernie tosses it to the ground, and as nervous as she is, Serena can't help a little smile at her friend's lack of regard for tidiness. 

For a split second Bernie stands still before her, and Serena thinks in a flash that she’s about to change her mind, but then her face breaks into a small, almost shy smile. 

"Okay," Bernie nods, gazing anywhere but Serena, for now. "Just... I have a routine," she explains. "And I tend to zone out a bit. Makes it easier. So _try_ not to distract me." The smirk that follows can only be described as obscene. Serena's mouth waters as she nods. 

Bernie steps towards her, one long, stocking-clad leg in front of the other, pointedly drawing attention to them and where they meet at the top of her thighs. Serena's breath catches in her throat. 

"I did have a hat," Bernie says lightly, as she nears. "But Saturday night was a busy one. I seem to have misplaced it." 

"I don't mind," Serena pants, getting a breath of Bernie's perfume. She’s so close now, stood directly in front of her. Bernie's fingertips find Serena's chin, tilt her head to look her directly in the eye, nods in a way that lets Serena know that this is entirely on her terms, that if she is uncomfortable in any way Bernie will stop. Serena nods in return, then watches as Bernie's expression shifts slightly, a fire igniting in her eyes, ready to begin.

She shuffles forwards a little more, before placing both palms on the wall behind Serena and straddling her, though keeping raised slightly so there is no contact between them just yet, one knee either side of her hips. 

"Scarlet tells me this is your first time," Bernie murmurs in Serena's ear, her lips brushing the lobe teasingly in a way that makes Serena shudder. All she can do is nod. "Here, or anywhere?" 

"Anywhere," Serena replies on a breath, unable to utter another syllable. She’s fairly sure she’s having a heart attack right now. 

She feels Bernie pull back just a fraction. "So you know how this works… how _far_ we go?" 

Serena blinks blearily, making a grunt of confusion. The bouncer had explained to her the rules: cash upfront, and keep your hands to yourself. How can it possibly be any more complicated than that? 

She hears rather than sees Bernie's wicked grin. She places both hands on Serena's shoulders, running her palms down the length of her arms and Serena lets out a small whimper, struggling not to buck her hips as Bernie's hover above. Bernie reaches her hands and interlinks their fingers, moving them to grip the edges of the chair. 

"You just keep your hands there and leave the rest to me," she purrs, and when Serena nods she lets go of her hands again, leaning back and stretching to allow Serena to enjoy the view. She doesn't know where to look. Bernie's nipples are standing hard through the thin fabric of her bodysuit, and her mouth falls open slightly with the urge to capture one between her teeth. 

As if reading her mind, Bernie brings a hand up to her own breast over the fabric of her bodysuit, the other running through her hair. She squeezes, her eyes fluttering closed to enjoy the feeling, before hissing as she pinches her nipple, her hips rocking so that they just brush Serena's. 

Serena whimpers, heat rising in her chest as Bernie replaces a hand on her shoulder, the other still working her nipple, rocking her hips torturously. It's all Serena can do to keep hers still; she doesn't know if lifting her hips to meet Bernie's would be against the rules. She doesn't ever want this to end. 

With one final squeeze, Bernie's hand leaves her breast, instead slipping beneath Serena's arm to caress her waist. She brushes small circles with her thumb, making her squirm, before finally, agonisingly, pressing her body against Serena's. 

She gasps as Bernie moves against her, whimpers as her lips brush her neck, moans as she feels Bernie's hard nipples against her chest. The sensations are overwhelming, her breaths coming out short and shallow as Bernie presses tighter against her, swivels her hips, groans, dips her tongue out to taste the salty perspiration on Serena's neck. 

And then she's gone, and Serena thinks she might pass out from the lack of contact. Bernie is stepping backwards, her eyes never leaving Serena's, pupils dark and dangerous as she runs her hands up her sides, over her breasts, up her neck, through her hair. 

Then her fingers are slipping beneath the straps of her bodysuit, and Serena is suffocating, she can't breathe. Her mouth hangs open, her throat dry, her arousal painful, her nipples rock hard and too sensitive against her bra. She thinks this might be too much, but it's oh so good that she can't bring herself to halt it. Bernie teases her, turns around, runs her hands back down her body, slaps her ass and makes Serena moan. 

She turns to face her again, her cheeks slightly pink, her teeth toying with her lip, and then she's slowly, carefully pushing the straps down her arms, pulling out of them, holding the fabric up against her chest, before finally pushing it down to her waist. 

Serena is no longer capable of rational thought, of restraint. No, her arousal is too strong for that, and she gives up on trying to hide it. She moans, loud, arches her back in the direction of her friend, writhes in her seat, licks her lips. There is a brief flash of surprise in Bernie's expression as she watches, but then her eyes are blazing, her stance newly confident and her movements more natural and smooth. 

Bernie's hand comes up to her bare breast now, weighing it in her hand as the throws her head back, her hips gyrating as she stands. She murmurs quiet words of gratification, humming and licking her lips as her eyelids flutter. 

Then her eyes are back on Serena, and she melts under her heated gaze. Bernie's eyelids are hooded, her lips glistening and red from biting them, her cheeks flushed. Serena thinks she looks utterly, irresistibly shaggable. She grips the edges of the seat tighter in restraint. 

Bernie is sidling up to her again now, doing a quick twirl before her, her movements timed expertly with the club's background music. She reaches her hand out, caresses Serena's cheek. Serena's breath hitches; Bernie notices, her lips curling in a devilish smirk. She steps forward again, straddles her, wasting no time in grinding their hips together this time, allowing herself to moan as her sex brushes Serena's trousers through her bodysuit. 

Serena's knuckles are white on the edges of the seat now, her breaths ragged as Bernie grinds on her, squeezing her breasts, throwing her head back. Was that Serena's name she heard escaping her lips? Just the thought that it might be causes Serena's sex to contract hard, and her hips jolt up suddenly, bumping against Bernie's. The older woman gasps, bearing down, moaning as they rut against one another. 

She stretches up slightly, so that her breasts are now level with Serena's eyes. Her mouth falls open by default, and she grunts in surprise as Bernie arches forward, brushes her nipple against Serena's bottom lip.

It's torture. That's the only way to describe it. Serena wants to dart her tongue out, to capture it between her teeth and suck until Bernie is crying in ecstasy. But she knows the rules, and doesn't want to push whatever loose boundaries exist between them at this moment. So instead she closes her eyes, her hips still rocking in time with Bernie's, and imagines it, imagines the feeling, the taste. She's certain she's never been more turned on in her life. 

That is, until Bernie rests back slightly, her hips raised off Serena's, one hand on her shoulder for leverage, and slowly, delicately, reaches a hand down to the apex of her thighs, running a long finger over her sex through her bodysuit. 

Serena growls. That's the only word for it. She even surprises herself with the sound. Bernie rocks her hips against her hand, leans forward again, allows her nipple to touch Serena's lip just briefly, before sliding off of her, onto her knees on the floor. 

She bites her lip, her hand returning to her breast, before settling back on her elbows, her legs spread wide. Serena thinks she catches a glimpse of Bernie's sex as her bodysuit shifts slightly. She swallows thickly, her hips jolting, rocking in rhythm with Bernie's as her friend touches herself again, her body curving in a way that Serena had been certain was only possible for those under thirty-five before now. She lets out a little moan as she thinks about how strong Bernie must be, about her military training, about her sporty build. She wants to run her hands, her mouth, her tongue over ever inch of her. 

Bernie rolls onto her front, bucks into her hand a few times, then pushes back onto her knees, displays that perfect behind to Serena, slaps it hard enough to leave a mark. Serena thinks she could come from this, prays she doesn't. 

Then Bernie is turning round, crawling towards her, gazing up at her from beneath her fringe. Serena is panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and she feels her entire body flush as Bernie rakes her eyes all over her, lingering on her lips, her breast, her crotch. Serena bucks her hips again. 

She's knelt at Serena's feet now, biting her lip before running her hands slowly up her calfs. They rest on Serena's knees, keeping eye contact as she gently tugs them apart, reminding Serena that this is on her terms. Serena's brain seems to have malfunctioned somewhat. Words are foreign to her. All she can possibly be aware of is that Bernie Wolfe is in dangerous proximity to her crotch. It crosses her mind that she may have soaked through her trousers, worries briefly about Bernie noticing, but that thought is fast irrelevant as the older woman's palms smooth up her thighs, her face moving ever closer to her sex. 

And then her lips brush faintly across the front of Serena's trousers, and Serena cries out, legs falling apart wider, shoulders trembling with the effort of keeping her hands firmly on the seat. She envisions herself tangling her fingers in her hair, pulling it tight, tugging Bernie's mouth to her cunt and bucking against it until she comes. Her sex pulses harder than ever, and she feels a fresh gush of arousal as Bernie leans forward again, her nose poking through the fabric and bumping her clit. 

Serena can feel herself building up, can feel the distinctive first twitches of an orgasm. She bites her cheeks, willing herself to calm down, to detach. Bernie has moved up now, and is sat between Serena's legs with her back to her, grinding her ass against her and resting her head back on Serena's shoulder so that she can watch the older woman as her hand moves between her legs, the other tugging at her nipple. She rolls her hips, can't help herself. Bernie moans, gasps, pushes back harder, roughly palms herself, turns her head to brush her lips against Serena's neck. 

Serena can't remember a time when she's been this turned on, without even taking any of her clothes off. Even her wildest fantasies hadn't prepared her for this. Never in her life has she felt out of control of her own body, where sex was concerned. She could always hold back, could time her orgasms right down to the second. But now... Bernie is going to make her come, she thinks, and there's no way she can stop it. 

She is straddling her again now, rocking and swivelling her hips expertly as her lips brush up Serena's neck. Serena feels her knees trembling, squeezes her eyes shut, tries not to breath. She whimpers as Bernie takes an earlobe between her teeth, moans as she feels her breasts against her chest, keens as Bernie's hips buck faster. 

But then suddenly, she slows, her hips coming to a halt. Serena feels her place a gentle kiss on her cheek, leans into it without thinking, then opens her eyes as Bernie pulls back, a Cheshire-cat's grin on her lips. 

Serena doesn't even have the capacity to smile back. 

Bernie stands up off her, and Serena instantly misses the feeling of her in her lap. Her arousal is burning; she had been so close to the edge, part of her considers asking Bernie to finish her off. She is still trying to get her breath as Bernie pulls her bodysuit back up over her chest, her mouth hanging open and her cheeks flushed. 

"How did I do, then?" Bernie asks, an eyebrow raised. Serena makes strangled noise. 

"It's a good job I don't have any underlying heart conditions," she pants, her hands still planted firmly on the edges of her seat. She can't yet bring herself to move, as exhausted as she is, and if she did she didn't trust herself not to start masturbating right here and now. She shifts slightly in her seat at the thought. 

Bernie chuckles, blushing. "I'll take that as a compliment," she murmurs, a shy smile on her lips. Serena gapes, wondering how she can just flip from the Bernie that was moaning and gyrating against her moments ago to the Bernie that is now bending down to pick up Serena's things for her, her hair falling over her reddened cheeks. 

"It was definitely meant as one," Serena replies, forcing herself to sit up properly. She allows one hand to let go of the chair, uses it to fan herself. 

"I'm glad you enjoyed it so much," Bernie beams, handing her her outer blouse first. Serena pauses, before gathering all her energy to shuck it back on, followed by her jacket and coat. 

"Stay for another drink, if you like," Bernie offers. Serena shakes her head. 

"Oh, no, don't worry about that. I need to get home for... uh... Jason." She coughs. 

Bernie smiles understandingly. "Okay," she nods, her hand on Serena's shoulder. It burns her skin, even through her coat, and Serena bites her lip. "Maybe some other time."

"Yes, yes, of course," Serena says quickly, as she begins walking in the direction of the exit. She pauses for a moment. Is Bernie implying that she should visit again? She decides she can't think about that now, hurries her steps. 

"Well, I'll, er, see you at work," Serena stammers, as they reach the exit. Bernie nods with a small smile. 

"Yes, see you soon." She stares at her for a few moments, looks as though she's about to say something, then simply reaches out and gives Serena's arm a squeeze. 

They say a hasty goodbye, Serena's desperation to be out of there growing more by the second. Her knickers are drenched, uncomfortably so, and she thinks this might be the quickest she's walked home in her life. She's not even to the top of the stairs before she's unbuttoning her trousers, slamming her bedroom door behind her and quickly discarding them along with her ruined underwear. She doesn't even have time to take her blouse off before she's flopped down on the bed, hissing as her fingers dip between her swollen, slick folds and within moments she's twitching against her hand, coming with a groan. But she's still not satisfied. She continues her hand movements, thrusting two fingers straight inside, curling them, all the while memories of Bernie flash though her mind. She can still smell her perfume, still feel her lips on her neck, and in no time she's clenching around her fingers again, bucking into her hand until she can no longer see straight. 

For minutes she is paralysed, her hand remaining between her legs as she tries to regain control of her breathing. She thinks she could probably come again, but she doesn't know if she has the energy for it. All she knows is that she is definitely, one-hundred and ten percent at the mercy of Berenice Wolfe. Her little experiment had payed off, in more ways than one. She knows that her crush on her friend isn't going to go away. But how could she ever tell her? Could she possibly risk their friendship? It crosses her mind that if tonight hasn’t ruined their friendship, not much will. But she’s not convinced. Bernie thinks this is just a bit of fun, doesn’t she? A laugh between friends? Bernie seemed to have no less qualms about showing Serena her dancing as she would do about showing her a new technique in theatre. It was just a job to her, an act, Serena thinks. 

But she can’t stop thinking about her. Tonight had been amazing, and already Serena is thirsting for more. Bernie seemed more than happy to dance for her. Would it be wrong of Serena to take advantage of that? As long as they were both enjoying themselves, she reasoned, then why not? _Feelings_ , her brain points out. She quickly bats the thought away. Maybe this would even be helpful in resolving her little crush, getting it out of her system. 

Or maybe it would be worse than ever. Either way, she’s certain that she has to go back and see Bernie dance, just one more time.

For starters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading - let me know your thoughts!


	3. tell her i'll be waiting in the usual place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe how fast I've written this chapter! Thank you all so much for the continued support, it really helps to motivate me to write so keep it coming! 
> 
> Enjoy!

_[Song for this chapter: Slave To Love - Bryan Ferry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UH1CMCtV4to) _

* * *

They're not at work again until Thursday. Serena spends the majority of her day off pacing the front room, trying to get visions of Bernie topless out of her mind. Easier said than done. It is quickly becoming an obsession, and her stomach jolts with nerves at how she will react to seeing her friend tomorrow. At this moment, she's not entirely sure how she'll resist pouncing on her. The ache between her legs hasn't ceased since she returned from the club. Even her dreams left her in a hot flush, fantasies of Bernie above her, in her bed, twisting that perfect body around her, touching Serena as she had touched herself, having her hard and fast and making her scream. She thinks they should prescribe Bernie as an alternative to HRT. She can't remember the last time she was this horny.

In reality, their next day at work is too hectic for her to be distracted for more than a couple of seconds by the thought that she now knows exactly what lies beneath those loose navy scrubs, and she knows from the glint in Bernie's eye that she's thinking it too. Then they're both swept away as paramedics come bursting in with three traumas from an RTC. It's late afternoon before they're alone in their office together. 

"God, what a morning!" Bernie exclaims, sitting down heavily in her office chair. Serena smiles. 

"Three hours to go," she replies, with tired enthusiasm. "I for one can't wait for a glass of Shiraz." 

"Can you ever?" Bernie smirks up at her. Serena's stomach flutters. She feels heat rising up her neck and coughs. 

"You're welcome to join, if you like," she invites slowly, averting her eyes from the older woman. 

"I'd love to," Bernie sighs. "But I'm, um... a bit busy tonight." She catches Serena's eye and Serena knows instantly where she's going. Her cheeks burn, and she curses herself inwardly. 

"Oh," is all she can reply. Just when she thought the aching was beginning to subside... she shifts uncomfortably in her seat. 

They are both silent then, the air between them thick. Serena is itching, burning. The images she has managed to keep at bay all day rushing back. She squeezes her legs together, wetting her lips and trying to focus on the computer screen. Her vision blurs. 

"Look, Serena," Bernie starts, jolting her out of her thoughts. Serena looks up at her hazily, wondering faintly if Bernie can see the darkness in her eyes, if she knows how she's feeling. Part of her hopes she does. "I just want to... check we're okay? I'm really sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I'd hate for this to come between us." She offers Serena small smile. 

Serena frowns at her. "You didn't make me uncomfortable," she says quickly. "Well, not unduly. What makes you think that?" 

"You've been acting a bit... tense," Bernie murmurs, looking away from her, her fringe hiding her eyes. She pauses. "Do you think badly of me?" 

"Of course not!" Serena replies incredulously. _The exact opposite of that,_ she thinks. "It's your decision what you do with your body. I respect that." 

"Good." They smile at each other for a moment, and Serena notices a slight blush in Bernie's cheeks. Was she embarrassed about the other night? Did she regret what they had done? 

"You're welcome any time, you know," Bernie adds, as if in answer to her thoughts. She looks up at her almost shyly, and Serena's heart falters. She wants to, oh so badly. Truly, it's all she can do not suggest they abandon their shifts and go to the club right now. She bites her lip, looking away. 

"Thanks, for the offer," she replies carefully, considering her words. "I'll bear it in mind." She won't bear it in mind; she doesn't need to. The decision was made before Bernie had even finished her sentence. 

Serena makes a little more effort this evening, however. She knows where she's going tonight, so she prepares. When she gets home she has a long bath, washes her hair, covers herself in her favourite primrose-scented moisturiser. She puts on a fresh blouse, but opts for a thinner camisole beneath it, as well as more tight-fitting trousers. She wants as little between her and Bernie as possible. For Dutch courage, she enjoys a large glass of wine before she leaves, reapplying her lipstick quickly in the mirror in the front room before calling to Jason that she is going out and not to wait up, checking she has plenty of cash in her purse, and setting on her way. 

The club is busier tonight, and Serena immediately feels self-conscious, horrific visions of bumping into a patient or, worse, a colleague flashing through her mind. She takes a deep breath, orders a large glass of wine at the bar, takes a seat. 

Almost instantly, there is a dancer sat opposite. Serena is slightly irked that it isn't Bernie before her, but she is polite to the woman, Nia. Eventually she finds the nerve to ask for Bernie. 

"Oh," Nia blinks in surprise. "I'll just go see if she's free for you." 

Serena thanks her warmly, sipping her wine. Eventually Nia returns and informs her that Bernie is busy at the moment, and would she like a dance from her instead. 

"No, thank you. I'll wait," Serena declines, through gritted teeth. Jealously burns inside her. She shakes her head. She has no right to be jealous, she reminds herself. Bernie will have other customers, and that's fine. She purses her lips, her foot tapping impatiently. _Hurry up_. 

A smooth voice sounds over the background music of the club, announcing a dancer coming up on the pole central to the room. There is a quiet murmur of excitement, and Serena thinks that she may as well watch. 

Her heart stops as Bernie Wolfe steps out onto the stage, her face serious and her gaze heated as she twirls around. She is dressed differently tonight. The camouflage bodysuit has been swapped for black lace hipster shorts and a matching longline bra, exposing her navel and toned stomach. The dark stockings are instead replaced for lighter ones, giving the impression of more revealed skin, though they are still held up by black lace detail around her thighs. Serena's jaw drops. 

Bernie seems to take a breath, before stepping slowly towards the pole, her hips swaying in time with the music as she does so. She grips it with both hands, lifting a leg around it, then lifts herself up, her muscles flexing in a way that makes Serena's knees weak. 

If Serena had ever been in doubt that pole dancing was an art, this sentiment is immediately overturned as Bernie begins twisting and turning around the pole, lifting herself up, letting go with her hands and leaning backwards, unclipping the bra as she does so. Serena swallows thickly as she sees Bernie's breasts swing free, the muscles of her stomach twitching as she lifts herself, hands free, back upright. She spins round again, and her stiletto heels land with a thud back on the floor. She crouches right down, legs apart, pushing her ass out so that the shorts ride up slightly to reveal more skin. A group of men jeer from the direction she was crouching, and Serena feels jealousy clench in her stomach once more. 

Before she knows it, Bernie is taking a bow on the stage, picking up her bra in a swift move before disappearing behind the curtain. Serena licks her lips again. Oh, how she wishes she could touch her, taste her. She's never felt a craving like it. Part of her screams at herself to stop this, to walk out of here right now and never look back. It's too much pressure on her restraint, on her heart. But it's too good, seeing Bernie like this. Aside from the obvious, she feels privileged to be seeing this side of her friend. They share this secret together, which is both thrilling and comforting in equal measure. Bernie trusts her enough to not only share this, but to show Serena her act, to take her clothes off in front of her, to make herself vulnerable like that. She does that for all of her customers, Serena knows, but it's something different doing it for a stranger than for someone you know. There isn't the fear of judgement, the shyness, the potential for exposure. But she trusts Serena with all of it, seemingly without a second thought. Serena tries not to get too sentimental about that. 

After waiting five minutes longer, Serena thinks she may as well go and get another glass of wine from the bar. She's just waiting to be served when she hears a familiar voice behind her. 

"Well, well, Ms Campbell. Fancy seeing you here."

She turns around and Bernie smiles at her, a dangerous, sultry grin that makes Serena's knees turn to jelly. She thanks her lucky stars that she has the bar to grip onto. 

"Good evening," she replies evenly, trying to hold her composure. She can already feel throbbing between her legs, wills herself to stay upright. Bernie grins at her. 

"Didn't expect to see you so soon," she comments. Serena blushes. 

"Well, after a performance like that..." She drifts off, meeting Bernie's eyes, standing her ground. If Bernie was going to flirt with her, she was going to bloody well flirt back.

Bernie's eyes glitter. "I could say the same thing to you," she smirks, her voice low, raking her eyes up and down Serena's body. She has to bite her cheeks to stop herself from going beetroot. "Would you like a drink?" 

"No," Serena says far too quickly. Bernie looks amused. 

"Would you like to go somewhere more private?" Bernie raises an eyebrow invitingly, and Serena doesn't need asking twice. She followed Bernie back to the row of booths. They aren't alone this time; Serena can see the two dancers writhing about on the floor in front of two booths on the end of the row. Bernie takes her to the opposite end, and Serena begins fumbling with her bag, but is taken by surprise as Bernie walks her backwards, pushing her lightly down onto the seat and putting her lips to her ear.

"So you'd like _another_ dance?" Bernie's voice is lower than Serena has ever heard it, thick and seductive as she looks at her penetratingly, her eyes dark and lustful. Serena can't speak, doesn't know what's happening, what she wants or what she's thinking. All she can do is fish around in her bag, take out a twenty pound note and hand it to Bernie with trembling fingers. 

With a smirk, Bernie takes the proffered note and puts it away in her purse before bending down to place it on the floor along with Serena's bag. Serena lets out a low groan as she takes in Bernie's behind displayed to her, the very same that she gazed at across the ward every day, when she thought the older woman wasn't looking. She wants to reach out, slap the smooth skin there before soothing the mark with her tongue, but she knows the rules are no touching. She takes a deep breath as Bernie takes her jacket and outer blouse and tosses them down with her bag. 

Bernie turns back to face her, straightening up and then she's swaggering towards her, and Serena feels dizzy even before the scent of Bernie's perfume hits her nostrils. And then Bernie is straddling her, and Serena thinks she might pass out. 

"I have a confession to make," she breathes in Serena's ear, her hips already rolling gently against Serena’s. “Mmh, you smell good.” Serena feels a gush of wetness, her sex almost painful with arousal, and groans in response, already speechless. "I haven't been entirely honest with you,” Bernie continues. Serena frowns at her. 

"Last time, when you were here," she purrs, drawing out every word in a way that sends shivers down Serena's spine. She's almost panting and Bernie hasn't even started yet. "Last time I, uh... modified my routine, shall we say. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." She whispers the last word right into the shell of Serena's ear, her lips tickling, and suddenly it's the most erotic word in the world. Serena's breath hitches, her back arching slightly, pushing her chest out so that it brushes Bernie's as she writhes above her. 

"Would you like the full routine?" She asks, her hands smoothing down Serena's arms to interlink their fingers and move them to the edge of the seat. "The ‘full monty', so to speak?" 

Serena feels as though she's been winded. Was Bernie really saying...? The older woman pulls back and Serena stares at her, her mouth hanging open, and she sees that hunger, the darkening of Bernie's pupils that she just can't resist. Bernie is a little breathless herself, her cheeks tinged pink and her lips red and inviting. Serena wants to kiss her, but she knows that’s not allowed. All she can do is nod, dazed by what Bernie is offering. Bernie grins. 

"You know the drill," she murmurs, her eyes fluttering down Serena's body to her hands. "Keep your hands there, leave the rest to me." Serena nods again as Bernie stands ready to begin. 

"Oh, and," she adds with a smirk, her eyes sparkling dangerously. " _Talk_ to me. Tell me if you want me to stop." She pauses. "Or, rather, tell me if you _don't_." She winks. Serena wonders briefly if they have a defibrillator in the building. She doesn't know if she'll be able to find words. Her throat is dry, her jaw hanging open. She can feel her nipples hard, her hips rocking involuntarily, desperate for some kind of friction as her sex burns. She thinks she'll deserve a medal if she survives this experience. 

And with that, Bernie begins. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed! Maybe even give me some suggestions ;)


	4. let me see you strip, you can get a tip 'cause i like, i like, i like

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long! Who knew a nursing degree could be so time consuming XD  
> Thank you all so, so, sooo much for all the wonderful feedback to this, it really makes my day so please do keep letting me know what you think!
> 
> Enjoy!

_[Song for this chapter: The Way I Are - Timberland ft. Keri Hilson & D.O.E.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U5rLz5AZBIA) _

* * *

  _"Talk to me."_

Bernie had been proud of herself when the words came out even, confident. Since Tuesday, she has tied herself in knots thinking about Serena, about this, not knowing exactly how to proceed. And then, when she saw that Serena had returned to the club, she made a split-second decision: she would give it her all, flirt to high heaven, try with all her might to signal to Serena that she was more than into this, and see how long it took her to crack. 

That doesn’t stop the nerves in her stomach, though. It isn’t something she’s ever done before, dancing in front of someone she knows personally without first being in a relationship with them, and even when she had danced for Marcus and Alex for the first time she had felt nervous about it. It’s a strange feeling, exposing yourself like that, but with a stranger you have that complete detachment, the lack of fear of judgement that makes it easy to just throw caution to the wind and get on with it. Now, however… But she trusts Serena, with her life, and knows that no matter what happens, she would never allow this to alter her opinion of her. 

And the look in Serena’s eye the previous night when she had removed the top half of her bodysuit might just have been the most erotic thing Bernie had ever seen. It was a look of pure, unadulterated lust, though Serena did immediately try to recover her poker face. And then the younger woman had _moaned_. It was all Bernie could do not to bring her bring their lips together, snog her senseless, fuck her right there in the open booth. But she couldn’t do that. Serena was her friend, and aside from everything else, she couldn’t shake the fear of pressuring Serena into doing something she didn’t want to do. As far as she knew, Serena had only ever expressed interest in men. The last thing Bernie wanted to do was to make her uncomfortable. 

That being said, Serena seems anything but as she watches her begin to move to the music, running her hands all over her body, ruffling up her hair. Serena looks at her with awe, and that boosts her confidence no end. She loves it, knowing she has such an effect on people, most of all Serena. But Serena affects her too. She thinks that’s perhaps the thing she is most nervous about, in showing Serena her full routine. The other night she had been able to hide just how aroused she was by Serena’s presence in the club, by the looks she was giving her and the sounds she was making. But now… now there would be nothing to hide behind. Serena would see just how wet she was, all for her - with other customers she couldn’t achieve that if she tried. She curses her body as she feels a fresh burst of excitement rush through her, worsening her problem. _Deep breaths. You can do this._

She stands a little straighter, and strides towards the trembling woman before her. 

::

If Serena had been told this time last week that she would she would end up in a strip club even once in the following week, she would have thought it ludicrous, and if someone had told her that it would be Bernie Wolfe providing the lap dance she would have said they were barmy. 

But here she is, on her second visit to the club in just three days, watching as Bernie steps towards her, a predatory look on her features that makes Serena squirm in her seat. _Talk to me_ , Bernie had said. Serena marks that in her head as the exact moment that she crossed over into some sort of alternate reality, a world that could only exist in her dreams, because by God surely this was too good to be true. She dips her tongue out, wets her lips as Bernie nears, her hips swaying to the beat. 

She starts differently, this time. Instead of straddling Serena as she had before, Bernie turns around in front of her, bends over to touch her toes, pushes her ass right out as she does so. Serena swallows thickly, trying to keep her composure, then remembers Bernie’s command. _Talk to me._ Bernie wants to hear her, wants to know that she’s enjoying herself. She feels self-conscious, but… Bernie turns around, murmurs at her to keep her knees apart, and she whimpers, allows it just loud enough for Bernie to hear.

She sees the other woman smirk as she spins back around, presses herself back against Serena as she perches between her legs. Serena groans, leaning her head just so that the sound tickles Bernie's ear and she takes a sharp breath, her hips jerking back against Serena's aching sex. 

“God…”

Serena allows the word to tumble from her lips on a breath as Bernie leans her head back on her shoulder, arching her back and bringing her hands up to her breasts, squeezing, writhing, brushing her thumbs over her nipples until they stand hard against her thin lacy bra. She pinches them, hisses, ruts back against Serena's sex, her hair tickling Serena's neck torturously. Already, Serena could feel herself getting worked up, panting like she'd gotten down on all fours and run the Grand National. All the different sensations, Bernie's hair against her neck, her hips rubbing between her legs, her nipples hard against Bernie's back, watching as the older woman touched herself, her own breaths getting sharper as she brushed her hands over her stomach, drifting downwards teasingly before returning to her breasts... 

Then she lifts her hands, tucks her fingers beneath the straps and pushes down the bra, twisting slightly as she pulls her arms free of the straps until the fabric is bunched around her waist. Serena gasps in awe, licking her lips, her fingers twitching with the urge to reach up and take a nipple between her thumb and forefinger, roll it, pinch it until Bernie is begging for mercy. 

Bernie is being much more vocal tonight, it seems. Serena can feel the quiet murmurs of enjoyment just as much as she can hear them. Oh, how she wishes she could touch her, could taste her. Her arms are almost trembling with the effort of keeping them in place, her mouth watering as she envisions herself taking a nipple in her mouth, tasting Bernie's skin. She notices that she has been rutting her hips against the older woman in a regular beat without even realising, and struggles to stop herself. The friction is too good against her burning cunt, but she doesn't want this to end and would hate to be overstepping the mark. 

But as she stills her movements, she hears a quiet whimper of confusion from the woman before her. Bernie pushes her hips back again in encouragement, leaning back a little further on Serena's shoulder so that she can turn her head and brush her lips across her jawline, one hand coming up behind her to tangle in Serena's hair as she moulds herself to Serena's body. 

And then as quick as that she is gone, strutting forwards again, her hips swaying and head held high as she swiftly unclips the fabric at her waist and tosses it aside. She stands with her legs apart, her back to Serena as she runs her hands up her thighs, briefly between her legs, causing Serena's breath to hitch, before moving round to her ass, giving it a rough squeeze and a slap. Serena grunts at her sight, her clit twitching, her hips jutting. 

“Do that again.”

The words tumble from her lips before she can realise what she is saying. She freezes, holding her breath as Bernie looks over her shoulder. But her eyes are alight, blazing with pure, unadulterated lust and she bites her lips, raking her gaze up and down Serena’s body in a way that made her feel like _she_ was the one that had taken her clothes off, before turning back around, pushing her ass out a little further, and slapping it hard, throwing her head back and hissing loudly as she does so.

Serena doesn’t know if this is real, if this is a dream. Her sex aches, burns white hot and she circles her hips, arching her back as Bernie continues twisting and gyrating before her. She can feel herself flushed all over, and notices too that Bernie’s cheeks are tinged pink. She sees the handprint where she had slapped herself, imagines that it was herself that had left the mark, groans again. Bernie seems to hear this, slaps again, and Serena feels a fresh gush of wetness, squeezes her thighs together, her forehead creasing with the desperation for some kind of relief. 

Bernie turns back around, strides back towards her brazenly, Serena’s mouth watering again as she admires her bare breasts. She wants to tell her she’s beautiful, that she’s the most beautiful woman that she’s ever seen, or expects to see again, but she thinks that might be a step too far. She doesn't want to do anything that could jeopardise her chances of experiencing this another time. So instead she just gapes as Bernie stands before her, kneels at her feet, tugs her thighs apart roughly. 

“I thought I told you to keep these apart for me,” Bernie tuts, her voice low and her words drawn out teasingly. Serena can only whimper. Bernie dips her head down, drags her bottom lip up the inside of one thigh, leaving a trail of lipstick as she does so that will likely stain. She is hopes it does. Serena fights to keep her hips still, fails. She can feel just how soaked she is, struggles to keep herself from thrusting a hand down her pants and fucking herself until she can’t breathe, even with Bernie as close as she is now. Bernie lets out a low chuckle as she watches the gentle rutting of Serena’s hips, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip. 

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Ms Campbell?” 

Bernie looks up at her from under her fringe, and all Serena wants is to bury her fingers in it, pull her up to meet her lips. She whimpers as Bernie leans down, lets her lips faintly touch the front of Serena’s trousers, right over her sex. She imagines Bernie’s lips on her clit, her tongue inside her, and lets out a high pitched groan that takes them both by surprise. Bernie presses her mouth a little harder, runs her nose up the line of her zipper, leaving Serena quivering and panting, before getting up again and straddling her, tangling her fingers in her hair and pulling Serena’s mouth to her breasts. 

Serena doesn’t know what to do. Bernie’s left nipple is pressed against her lip torturously, begging for her to capture it between them and bite down hard. Serena’s brow furrows in restraint. It feels so good, Bernie’s hips swivelling against hers, the scent of her skin and her perfume, how soft her skin feels as it brushes her cheek. She would barely have to move her mouth to taste her, to open her lips and dip out her tongue. How would Bernie react if she did? Would she pull away, call off the whole thing? Serena’s instincts told her no, but still she couldn’t bring herself to chance it. There was too much to lose.

But oh, it was tempting. Serena’s breath hitches again as Bernie’s hips bump hers and she rocks them up to meet each thrust, trying to concentrate on anything but devouring Bernie then and there. Bernie’s fingers tighten in her hair, and Serena is just about to give up, to allow temptation to take over and capture one of Bernie’s hard nipples between her teeth, when the older woman leans down, her breaths hot in Serena’s ear.

“Tell me how you’re feeling,” she whispers. Serena’s heart falters, her cunt spasming again. Where to begin… 

“How do you think I’m feeling?” She manages to pant out, carefully dodging the question. She could hardly give her a truthful answer, could she? Could she really look her friend in the eye and tell her, seriously, how dripping wet she had made her, before she had even started dancing? Could she possibly reveal how much she ached for her touch, how many nights she had spent fantasising about it, about how it would feel to come around her fingers, her tongue? Would that be an acceptable thing to say to your co-lead and best friend? 

Bernie barks out a laugh, and Serena’s lips automatically twitch upwards. She could never not smile at that sound.

She leans back then, her hands placed on Serena’s shoulders to steady herself. She lifts one up to Serena’s cheek, hips still rutting, giving her a small smile, brushing her thumb over her bottom lip, her eyes softening, and for a second Serena thinks she’s going to kiss her, hopes she does. But then instead Bernie takes the hand that had just caressed her friend’s cheek and moves it between her legs, running a finger over her lacy hipster shorts, whimpering softly as she does so.

Serena watches, mesmerised, her mouth hanging open as Bernie rocks against her hand, biting her lip as she does. 

“Mmmh.”

Bernie’s head falls back, her eyes fluttering closed and her back arched. Serena thinks she looks beautiful, like that, imagines that it’s her hand that she’s riding, that’s eliciting those delicious little murmurs from her lips. Serena allows herself to groan. Bernie opens her eyes a crack, meeting Serena’s gaze, her pupils more dark and lustful than Serena has ever seen as she allows the younger woman’s name to tumble from her lips, over and over. 

Serena’s clit is throbbing now, pulsing as she whimpers and writhes, watching Bernie’s face as she touches herself over her shorts. She doesn’t know how she could get any more turned on. But then Bernie stands back from her again, swivels round, swings her hips, squats a couple of times, pushing her ass out as she comes back up and giving it a slap as she knows Serena loves to see. Then she's hooking her fingers in the waistband of her shorts, smirking over her shoulder at Serena as she lowers the fabric at her hip slightly, exposing skin that Serena has not seen before. 

Serena’s eyes widen. She had thought she knew what was coming, thought she could handle it. _The full monty_. But now the air is gone from her lungs as she comes to the realisation that Bernie is actually going to do this; she is going to take her clothes off, completely, all for Serena. She doesn’t know if her lungs have the capacity to get her through this experience. Her chest rises and falls almost violently as Bernie twirls for her, lowering the other side of her shorts, pulling it back up, circling her hips, pulling the shorts down just enough that Serena can see the top of her ass, teasing her. She groans impatiently, and Bernie raises an eyebrow, her lips pouted in jest as she moves to the beat. 

Then she’s facing her, tugging the shorts down just so that Serena can see the beginnings of her carefully cropped hair poking out of the front. She feels dizzy, suddenly. Her eyes feel dry, her throat tight, her chest pounding, her mouth heavy with the desperation to just _taste_ her. She feels like a starved woman at a banquet, and Bernie is her feast, forbidden to her. She whimpers. 

Bernie has taken a step closer now, has turned back away from Serena. Hips still swaying, she gently lowers the shorts until they are sat just below her ass. Serena gasps at the sight. She had imagined so many times, as she ogled her from across the ward, just how beautiful that pert little behind of hers looked beneath those baggy scrubs, and now it is bare before her… She has never beheld a sight so perfect. 

That is, until Bernie starts to twist herself around, one hand expertly placed covering her mound. Serena’s mouth waters, her breathing nonexistent, her head spinning. She is really going to… Serena feels her clit pulse at the thought, feels herself gushing. She wants to bring a hand up to her breast, pinch her nipples, give herself any kind of light relief from this torture being inflicted upon her. She thinks she might be at the point of begging, she's that desperate to touch herself. But then Bernie might stop, and that's the thought that always upholds Serena’s restraint. If she were to let go, Bernie would stop. And she would do anything to prevent that. 

That being said, however, it could hardly be in the best interests of Serena’s health for her to proceed. Her face was flushed scarlet, she was tachycardic, tachypnoeic, hypertensive. If she was her own patient, she would be more than a little concerned. 

She laughs inwardly at herself for retreating into 'doctor mode' with panic. And that's what she's feeling. Blind panic. Not because she's frightened, or unduly uncomfortable, but because she cannot think for the life of her how she's going to stop herself from going too far, from reaching out and touching her friend, or dipping her head forward for a taste, or, worse, telling her that she wants to. Because there could only be two outcomes: either Bernie would let her, or Bernie would not. She doesn't know which is the positive option, at this point. 

All she knows is that she must stop herself, must keep her hands grasped tight on the edges of the seat, must keep her willpower. 

It's easier said than done. 

Bernie is still twisting to the beat now, her shorts lowered but not enough to completely uncover herself. Her hand is thrust down the front of them, touching herself as she gazes at Serena, her pupils alight. Serena thinks she could implode. Then Bernie is turning around again, hiding herself as she pushes the shorts down lower, uncovering her ass completely, until in one swift movement they drop to the floor. Serena licks her lips as Bernie steps out of them, expertly kicking them to the other side of the room with one heeled foot before turning back to her, one hand still carefully covering herself - though she looks anything but shy - until she is stood immediately before Serena. The vascular surgeon is panting heavily, her mouth watering as she watches Bernie's hand, waiting for her to reveal herself. Instead Bernie reaches out, tips Serena's chin upwards until she is meeting her eye, her face challenging. 

"I want you to keep your eyes on mine. No peeking just yet. Can you do that for me?" Bernie's voice is low and seductive, and all Serena can do is nod eagerly, her eyes glued to Bernie's. 

Bernie gives her a small nod, her lips curling up into a smile, before taking a step closer, then places one knee either side of Serena's hips, straddling her once more, her hand finally leaving the apex of her thighs to allow her to steady herself on Serena's shoulders. It's almost painful, keeping her eyes away. All Serena wants is to glance downwards, even for half a second. But she knows she can't. Not yet. 

Her heart pounds agonisingly in her chest as Bernie slowly lowers herself down, pressing herself flush against the trembling woman beneath her, their breasts and hips aligned. Serena can feel Bernie's nipples through her thin camisole, can feel her sharp hipbones against her own softer ones. She freezes, keeps entirely still, her brain short-circuiting somewhat. Bernie Wolfe is naked. Berenice Griselda Wolfe is stark naked and pressed flush against her. And she doesn't know what to do with this situation, doesn't know what's acceptable, what's expected of her. How did Bernie's other clients react to this? Was there some kind of etiquette to having a beautiful woman nude atop her? 

But her thought process is interrupted as Bernie lifts her hips up again, rolling them against Serena's, sinking back down with a sharp intake of breath that seems to send a bolt of electricity to Serena's core. She puffs out a breath, her sex painful, knuckles white at her sides. 

"Okay?" Bernie breathes in her ear, her teeth grazing the lobe as she ruts gently against Serena. The younger woman nods curtly. 

"More than." 

Her voice is as tight as her restraint as she keeps her eyes focussed forward, Bernie's breaths tickling her neck as she ghosts her lips down it. 

"You are allowed to move, you know," she murmurs, one hand moving to give Serena's hip a squeeze. "And, correct me if I'm wrong, but I could have sworn I told you to talk to me." 

Serena can feel her smirking against her skin, allows herself to relax a little. Bernie's hips grind down against hers insistently, and she meets Bernie's thrusts, a low groan escaping her lips. 

"God, Bernie..." Serena's voice is a squeak as they set up a rhythm, their bodies moving together in time with the smooth music of the club. Bernie's teeth graze the base of her neck, and she lets out a sigh, her eyelids fluttering shut. 

"Bite me."

She shocks herself with the words, but before she can take it back, she hears Bernie hum in enthusiasm, her teeth nipping at Serena's skin. 

"I said 'bite', soldier." Serena shivers as Bernie sinks her teeth in, delicious pain that makes her hairs stand on end and her skin feel alight. Bernie moves her lips across her collar, bites again, carefully avoiding the straps of Serena's top. She wants to tell her to take it off, to tear all of her clothes off and fuck her as she sat, but she can't do that. So instead she just groans, arches her back, whispers to Bernie how good she feels, begs her not to stop. 

She feels Bernie take a deep, savouring breath of her scent as she makes her way back up her neck, careful not to leave any marks she couldn't cover. Serena is writhing, shaking, murmuring again and again how amazing she is, telling her to keep going. She makes a noise of discontent as she feels Bernie pulling back, her lips leaving her neck. 

"Look at me."

Serena's heart stops, and she opens her eyes a crack, staring up at the woman above her hazily. Bernie is looking at her intently, her eyes wide, holding Serena's gaze, challenging her to keep her eyes there as she takes her right hand from Serena's shoulder and drifting it down to the apex of her thighs. Serena's breath hitches, her head spinning as Bernie's allows her eyes to drift shut, tilts her head back as her hand moves between her legs, her hips rocking gently in rhythm.

“You can look. Watch my hand.”

Serena thinks she might get whiplash, such is the speed at which her head snaps downwards to see Bernie’s deft, delicate fingertips softly stroking up and down her slick folds. Serena’s mouth falls open, her chest heaving, her cunt spasming as she watches her friend gently fuck herself, right there in front of her. She feels it again, that oddly exciting feeling of being completely out of control of her body, of its reactions. She can feel herself building up, feel her sex contracting erratically, and she knows that it would take barely a touch to get herself off. She just has to pray that Bernie doesn’t rub up against her as she had the previous night. If she did… She didn’t know if she could be responsible for her actions. 

But what she really, _really_ wasn’t prepared for, was for her friend to slowly, agonisingly drag her glistening fingers in a long line up her bare stomach, right up to her lips. Then she held Serena’s gaze as she took each digit in her mouth, lapping up her own juices, humming as she did so. Serena moans loudly, shamelessly, words tumbling from her lips reflexively. 

“Oh fuck, Bernie… God… you’re so fucking… oh… _God_ …”

Bernie flashes her a wicked grin before standing, and now, stood tall above her in her high heels, Serena can see _everything._ It crosses her mind that she may never find a man attractive again. Bernie is twisting her body to the music, her legs apart, her glistening sex on show for Serena to gape at, to thirst over. Then Bernie sidles back up to her, places one heeled foot on the chair beside Serena and all Serena can do is watch in awe as Bernie’s fingers disappear between her dripping folds. And Serena can _smell_ it, can smell as well as see Bernie’s arousal as she pleasures herself, her thighs spread wide for Serena to take in. She watches how Bernie’s fingers stretch herself, disappearing and reappearing in sync with her rocking hips, and Serena can’t help but mirror the movements, imagine that she’s bucking against Bernie’s fingers, those long, delicious, skilled, perfect digits that haunt Serena’s dreams and fantasies. Serena can see colour rising in Bernie’s cheeks now, her brow shining with perspiration, but before Serena has had chance to dwell on this thought, Bernie has pulled her fingers out of herself and is in Serena’s lap again, rocking against her, nipping at her collar, running her sticky fingers through her hair…

And then, as before, she came to a juddering halt, placing a gentle kiss on Serena’s cheek before pulling back with a bashful smile. 

“All right?” She asks. Serena raises her eyebrows faintly.

“Ask me again in five minutes,” she pants out, trying to steady her breathing. Bernie just grins, standing back from her, hesitating a moment, before turning to pick up her clothes. She bends over and Serena groans again, leaning her head back against the wall with a thud. 

“You know,” Bernie begins, pulling up her shorts. “It’s really quite busy here on a Thursday. And on a weekend, of course. Which is fine, but… if you wanted more time…” She rambles. Serena opens her eyes a crack, raises an eyebrow at her. Bernie stills. “What I’m trying to say is it would be a lot… better if you came early week next time? That way we’ll get more time. And we’d be able to use one of the private rooms; they’re never in use Sunday to Wednesday. If you wanted to come again, of course.” 

Serena nods far too eagerly. All she can focus on are two words: “private rooms”. Her mind runs wild with all the possibilities, thoughts of just how far Bernie would perhaps be willing to go, away from prying eyes. Would it loosen her inhibitions somewhat, to know that they were away from where others could so easily stumble upon them? 

She certainly hopes so. 

They again say their hasty goodbyes, Serena desperate to get home and take care of the mess Bernie has made of her. She wonders with a smirk if she should start billing her for all this ruined underwear, but then remembers that she’s actually paying her to do it. It makes her slightly uneasy still, the notion that Bernie wouldn’t be doing this for her without the fee. But it’s too good to get moral about. She just has to remember that that’s all this is, that Bernie does not feel it as deeply as she does, that it’s just a job to her. 

And God, does Serena feel it deeply, as she clenches around her fingers for what must be the third time that night, her face pressed hard into her pillow to quieten the scream that bursts from her lips as her orgasm rips through her, her head spinning as she bucks against her hand. But that’s not the only thing she feels deeply, because when she finally comes back to herself, feels sated enough to stop, she can’t help but reach out, feel for a body that was only there in her fantasies. And she realises that, as much as she is attracted to Bernie, as much time she spends thinking about ripping her clothes off, that’s not the extent of how she feels about her friend. There’s something deeper, something stronger, bubbling away beneath the surface, threatening to consume her. 

But she reminds herself again: this is just a job, and nothing else. She can’t allow herself to see it as anything more than that, to tie herself in knots with confused feelings for her friend. 

So she resolves to put it out of her mind and falls into a fitful sleep, littered with dreams of Bernie lying beside her, her eyes shining with happiness and adoration, with _love_ , that she wouldn’t remember in the morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed!


	5. so just lie against the wall and watch my conscience disappear now baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so overwhelmed by all the support this is getting - please do keep it coming, it really makes me day to hear what you think! I'm in uni full time next week, so the next update might be a little while, but this chapter is extra long to tide you over! 
> 
> Enjoy:)

_[Song for this chapter: Pencil Skirt - Pulp](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9VMkg8AlFZo) _

* * *

 Staying away from the club, even for just four nights, can only be described as agony to Serena. She finds it hard to believe that this has only been going on for a week. Already, she doesn’t know how she ever existed without it, without this version of Bernie in her life. Not that she hadn’t dreamt about it before… 

Bernie isn’t in work on Friday. Their shifts have fallen oddly this week, seeing as it’s the end of the rota, so they’re both working Sunday - a rare occurrence, two consultants on a weekend. Surprisingly though, the shift is busy. A major incident had been declared and, with ED on black alert, they were bearing the brunt of it. Serena was glad of the distraction, though, preferring to be in surgery than to spend the afternoon in her office trying and failing to concentrate on her paperwork whilst Bernie sat opposite her, tapping away at her computer without a care in the world. She wondered if the trauma medic had any clue, even the slightest inkling of the effect she has on her. Surely, if she did, she wouldn’t be so carefree about it all? Surely she’d have something more to say?

But no, Bernie simply goes about her work as normal, as if she hadn’t reduced her co-lead to a quivering, dripping mess just three nights before. Serena can feel it constantly. She doesn’t even have to be in the same room as her; just the memory of her body against hers, stark naked and writhing and _moaning_ like there's no tomorrow. God, was there ever a sight so beautiful? She was counting down the hours to the end of their shift, desperate for her next fix...

"Oh, by the way, Serena," Bernie says to her in passing, barely looking up from the notes she's holding. "Just to let you know I won't be working tonight; I'm on an early tomorrow and don't usually work before them. Tomorrow night, though." She looks up with a quick smile before rushing over to her patient as the monitor begins beeping to show his dropping BP. 

Serena groans, runs an exhausted hand over her face, and begrudgingly sets back the timer in her head another twenty-four hours. 

::

Monday morning is busy. There’s a burst water pipe down the road, meaning that the traffic’s bad and the water is off in their home, leading Jason to have a slight meltdown at the disruption to his morning routine. Once all that is resolved and they’re safely in work, the department is its usual hectic self for a Monday morning. She has an elective at nine, which gets off behind time since she was late arriving, which in turn sets her whole day off schedule. 

Because of all this, and some chaos involving a speculum and a couple of rather uninhibited geriatrics, she doesn’t see Bernie at all until gone mid-afternoon. It’s probably for the best, really. Serena is distracted enough already, with thoughts of the coming evening swirling through her mind. But no, Bernie just has to go and take it that one step further.

Even though the trauma unit on AAU is well up and running at this point, it is still often required for the hospital to entertain donors in order to acquire further funds and investment. Before she stepped down as Deputy CEO, Serena would have been heavily involved in this process, or at the very least know when said donors were due a visit. Now, however, she is taken entirely by surprise as Bernie darts into their office, heaving out an exasperated sigh as she digs through their top filing cabinet drawer for some lost fee forms. 

“For goodness’ sake, I only printed them out last week!” 

The first thing that knocks Serena off-guard, other than her friend’s rather manic entrance, is the fact that Bernie isn’t clad in her usual trauma unit scrubs. No, today is she is rather dressed up. Her hair is clipped up at the sides, showing off her cheekbones and a delicate pair of tear-drop earrings that Serena has not seen on her before. Rather than the usual blue tunic she instead is wearing a fitted white blouse, the top buttons unfastened to expose her collarbones. But by far the thing that most catches Serena’s eye is the smooth black pencil skirt that clung to her thighs and ran from just below her knee all the way up to her waist, where her blouse was tucked into it. Usually, Bernie’s baggy scrubs hid her curves from sight, but today…

Bernie turns to look in another drawer, and Serena bites back a groan as she sees Bernie’s toned behind through the tight fabric. She swallows thickly, her mouth watering, cursing herself for the blush creeping up her neck, trying as best she could to tear her eyes away and failing miserably.

“Serena?”

She blinks, finally looking up at Bernie’s face in confusion. “Sorry?”

“I said, have you seen my budget plans?”

Serena frowns, shrugging and shaking her head, her eyes scanning the desk. “I don’t think— Oh, here.” She stands and leans across to lift a stack of papers from Bernie’s side of the desk, her view altering so that now she can see Bernie’s toned calfs and glossy black stilettos that make her legs go on for what seemed like miles. She fights another groan, chastising herself for being so pathetic. She’s seen this woman naked not once, but twice now, yet here she is finding herself knocked for six by a simple pencil skirt. Her breath hitches. 

“Oh, thank— God, look at the cup ring on that! I’ll have to print off another copy.” Bernie makes a growl of stress as she bends over her computer, rapidly typing in her password and begging the machine to hurry up. Serena is most upset that Bernie is now facing her, thus obscuring the delicious view of her behind, but damn if that blouse isn’t as flattering. She always was so fascinated with Bernie’s collarbones. She could just envision herself, the gasps tumbling from Bernie’s lips as she ran her tongue right along the length of them…

“There. Done. Sorry.” Bernie offers her a frantic smile, in her haste not bothering to sign out of the computer and instead just pressing the manual power button as the IT technicians had told her not to do more times than she could count. Serena smiles at her fondly as she rushes away, praying that Bernie hasn’t seen the blush in her cheeks.

“Good luck!” Serena calls after her, restraining herself from craning her neck for another look as the trauma consultant rushes back to her meeting. She sighs, clicking back onto her emails. 3:32pm. Six hours to go. 

::

Bernie was right; the club is nigh on empty on a Monday night. She arrives just after quarter to ten, having stopped to pick up some cash on her way. She gets to the door, pays her entry fee and gets the usual welcome lecture from the bouncer. “Cash up front, and _absolutely_ no touching.” She was all too aware of that. 

It feels more comfortable in the club this evening, cleaner. Usually, the air was stickily warm, no doubt from the understandable heavy breathing of all who entered, but tonight the air feels more crisp, the floors less sticky and the usual scent of sweat and alcohol is instead replaced by a light floral one.

As routine, she heads straight for the bar on arrival, learning that if she sat down she was more likely to end up having to fend off one of the other dancers. She orders a large Shiraz for herself, then another one on second thoughts, thinking it only polite to offer Bernie one too. If not, she’d more than happily chug them both herself. 

She offers her payment, and the barmaid looks her up and down.

“You Serena?” She asks. 

Serena frowns. “Yes, why’s that?” 

An eyebrow raised, the woman nods at the two glasses. “On the house.”

Serena’s frown deepens. “Sorry, what?” 

The woman smirks. “Seems you’ve got an admirer.”

Serena raises both eyebrows as the woman turns back to where she had been stocking one of the chillers. Had Bernie requested that? Surely not. She always felt bad, taking things without paying her share, so quietly leaves the fee on the bar before taking both glasses through to the main lounge. 

In here, Serena sees that the club really is empty. There is one other man sitting at a table in the corner, a dancer either side of him, and a woman on the pole central to the room, but no one else. She perches on the edge of a seat to the side of the room, her neck craning to see if she can spot Bernie anywhere. She wonders if she’s with another client. After all, she had arrived later than usual. 

But then, just as she’s beginning to get restless, she feels fingertips ghosting across her shoulders and shivers, turning to see her co-lead towering over her. Her mouth falls open. Serena had expected that perhaps Bernie would be wearing something different tonight; she had, of course, worn different outfits last week. Oh, she had spent far too long imagining just what it was that Bernie would wear tonight. Something army themed again? Something lacy? Something leather?

But the answer turned out to be nothing of the sort, as she raked her eyes up and down the very same blouse and pencil skirt that she had ogled earlier in the day. She eventually reaches her face, and sees Bernie looking down at her with a bemused grin. 

“I was beginning to think you weren’t turning up.” 

“Of course not,” Serena shakes her head quickly. “I just needed to get some money out.”

“Oh, you needn't have done that,” Bernie replies, and Serena is very distracted by the hand still resting on her shoulder. “I told them not to charge you at the bar.” She smiles kindly. 

“Thank you, you really shouldn’t have,” Serena smiles back at her, meeting her eyes softly. Bernie pauses for a moment, holding her gaze, before smirking and nodding at the table. 

“I see you’ve taken full advantage,” she observes. Serena looks across, before shaking her head. 

“No, no. I got one for you too. Thought you might need it after a long day like today.”

Bernie reaches and picks up a glass, taking a sip. “Ah, thank you,” she murmurs, her eyelids fluttering shut as she savours. “Much appreciated.” She takes another sip, nodding down at Serena to pick up her glass. “Come on. We can drink these through here.” 

Serena halts, her mouth gaping again a moment in confusion before she remembers Bernie’s promise. _Private room_. All too excitedly she picks up her glass and handbag, following Bernie as she leads them down a separate corridor to the other booths and up some stairs, watching the delicious sway of Bernie’s behind in her skirt as she did so. 

At the top of the stairs are three different adjoining corridors, each with a velvet curtain at the end and a bouncer stood at the entrance. Bernie takes her to the one furthest away, fishing into her blouse for a rolled up note. 

“No need to hang about for this one, Ted,” she tells the bouncer stood at the end. He looks Serena up and down, eyebrows raised, before taking the proffered note with a nod and a smirk. Serena frowns at him as he passes, before following Bernie to the velvet curtain a couple of metres behind him. 

She pulls it back. “After you.”

Serena hesitates for just a moment, her heart hammering, before stepping inside. 

The room is bigger than she had expected, about double the size of her living room at home. It is still decorated in the same scheme as the rest of the club - dark purples and reds - but is a little lighter than before. In the centre of the room is a pole, set on a slightly raised platform, with a crescent shaped sofa and coffee table on one side and crimson velvet chaise longue on the other. Bernie leads them both to the sofa, placing her glass down with a clunk and moving over to a small stereo, set in the wall.

“Any requests?” She asks, sifting through various CDs. Serena shakes her head, too nervous for words, and sits down at the edge of the sofa whilst Bernie selects a random disc, shrugs, and sets it to the player. 

“I’m supposed to set this all up before I bring a customer in, but I figured you wouldn’t mind,” Bernie explains with a chuckle. She moves back over to the sofa. “Budge up.” Serena shuffles along the seat behind the table, dragging her wine glass along with her. “Oh, wait a minute. Let me take your coat and things. There’s hangers by the door.” Bernie seems to either not notice or ignore Serena’s stunned silence, instead waiting as she shrugged off her jacket and outer blouse and handing them to her, along with her fee. Bernie eyes her outstretched hand skeptically for a moment, looking between the note and Serena, before lifting her head a little higher and taking it, putting it in her purse and setting it aside with Serena’s things. 

“How did it go with the donors?” Serena asks as she sits back down, alarmingly close to her, she has to say. Bernie takes a gulp of wine, nodding with a grin. 

“Really well, actually. They want to invest even more in the trauma unit and have offered us double funding for the next quarter to train new staff and look at expanding it’s remit - a couple more beds, more advanced equipment, things like that. I told them they needed to speak to the organ grinder and not the monkey though, about the expansion. You’ll no doubt get called in by Hanssen tomorrow.” 

Serena coughs with a little smile. “Well, I wouldn’t quite call myself the organ grinder. It’s your trauma unit, darling.” She freezes, realising the words that had just come out of her mouth. _Where the hell did that come from?!_ Fortunately, Bernie seems not to notice, and continues. 

“Yes, but it’s still your ward. Well, _our_ ward. It should be a joint decision,” she explains, resting her chin on her hand. Serena meets her eye and nods.

“Well, I think it’s a wonderful idea. You’ve done a brilliant job with the trauma unit. I’m sure that will continue.” 

Bernie chuckles. “You’ll make me blush,” she jokes, looking down at her glass, then back up again. “You know, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Serena pauses, holding her breath as she takes in the sparkle in her co-lead’s eyes, her heart fluttering as she is again taken aback by her beauty, by her fondness for her. At this point, she’s consciously refusing to look any deeper into what this ‘fondness’ really means.

Bernie seems to come to the conclusion that Serena hasn’t any more to say on the matter, the truth being that she is just too mesmerised by her friend in this moment to speak coherently, and smirks, looking down at Serena’s now empty glass with a raised eyebrow. 

“Would you like another?” She asks.

Serena shakes her head. 

Bernie’s eyes flicker down, her hand creeping across the seat to rest on Serena’s thigh. She gives it a soft squeeze, and Serena's skin tingles beneath her touch. 

“Would you like a dance?” 

Bernie’s voice is low and sultry, her pupils dark as she looks up at Serena from beneath her eyelashes. Serena gulps and nods, her cheeks already burning scarlet. 

Slowly, Bernie moves her hand from Serena’s thigh, deft fingertips brushing upwards to her waist before drifting down her arm and interlacing their fingers. 

“Come with me.” 

Serena feels dizzy again as Bernie tugs her across the room, past the pole to the chaise longue at the opposite end. She feels herself pushed down, Bernie’s fingers tilting her chin up to look her in the eye before nudging her legs apart and perching on one thigh. 

Her lips brush across Serena’s hairline, breathing her in, making a small noise of enjoyment before moving to murmur in her ear. “I’m going to need you to work with me a bit on this one.” 

Serena frowns, pulling back to look at her. Bernie smiles, colour rising in her cheeks. 

“I’ve learnt a new routine,” she explains, her fingers drawing small circles in the flesh of Serena’s upper arm. She chuckles. “I haven’t learnt a new routine since nineteen ninety-four.” 

Serena looks at her in surprise. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

Bernie looks away. “Wouldn’t want you getting bored of me, now, would we?” 

Serena’s mouth falls open slightly, her eyes widening. She really thought… 

She lifts her hand to cup Bernie's cheek, thinks better of it, instead tilts her head until she is looking her straight in the eye. 

“Believe me, Bernie. That’s the last thing you need to be worried about.” 

Bernie gazes at her for a few moments, her eyes searching. Serena wants to kiss her, snog that bewildered pout right off her face. But then she breaks into a warm smile. 

“Well, just bear with me,” Bernie grins, before moving her lips back to Serena’s ear. “I’ve never tried it in this skirt before, either, but I saw you staring this afternoon and I just had to keep it on.” She pauses. “ _Darling._ ” She pulls back with a wink, and Serena gapes at her as she stands, twirling around before strutting away from her, her shoulders back and head high. Serena shifts in her seat, already feeling herself heating up as she watches the sway of her co-lead’s behind. 

Bernie begins with her back to her, this time, running her hands smoothly up her sides to her hair, tangling her fingers through it, tilting her head back. Serena finds it amazing that even such a simple action as that has her weak at the knees - though she always did have a soft spot for Bernie’s hair. Oh, she had spent many a night fantasising about how it would be to run her hands through those golden curls, imagining the scent, imagining how Bernie would moan as she tightened her fingers in them. 

Now Bernie turns back around and prowls towards her. Serena’s chest tightens in anticipation, but Bernie stops half way, tilts her head back again, pushing her chest out so that the buttons of her blouse strain around her bust. Serena licks her lips. 

Then she smooths her palms down her thighs, bending at the knee slightly, leaning forward so that Serena can see a little more skin beneath the open buttons of her blouse. Then her finger drifts to the hem of her skirt, and she is tugging it gently upwards, just far enough that Serena can see that, rather than her usual hold-ups, Bernie is today wearing stockings and suspenders. She lets out a breath. All the times she had imagined Bernie in a suspender belt, and here...

Bernie is coming towards her now, a Cheshire Cat’s grin on her lips as she kneels between her legs. Serena groans, shuffles, spreads them wider, her eyes hooded as Bernie presses herself flush against her centre, her lips grazing over Serena’s breasts as she drags her fingernails along the top of Serena’s thighs. Serena huffs out a breath, throwing her head back, her hips rolling. Then Bernie pulls back slightly, her fingers moving to the buttons of her shirt, but then returning to Serena’s thighs. Serena’s mouth hangs open as she brings one hand to Serena’s neck, pulls her down to whisper in her ear. 

“I want you to tell me what you’d like me to remove first.”

She pulls back so that Serena can see the wicked glint in her eyes, and she whimpers, her tongue suddenly feeling heavy in her mouth as she struggles for words, to say anything other than _take everything off and please, please, fuck me_. 

She eventually manages, “Unbutton your blouse.” 

Bernie nods, her fingers moving back to her chest. She starts to pull at her waistband where it is tucked in, and Serena shakes her head. 

“No. Leave it tucked in. Just unbutton it to there.” 

She does as she’s told. Serena’s heart is hammering in her chest, her sex clenching at the power reversal, at the sight of Bernie on her knees before her, doing exactly as she said.

Bernie tugs open her blouse so that Serena can take in the swell of her breast and it occurs to her for the first time that she is not wearing a bra. She wonders if she had not been wearing one all day, or whether she had taken it off for her benefit. For some reason, she feels confident enough to ask.

Bernie hums in quiet amusement, raking her eyes up Serena’s body, hesitating on her crotch, on her breasts, before lingering on her lips. 

“It wouldn’t be very professional of me, trying to provoke you at work like that, would it?” She answers with a sultry grin. Serena swallows thickly. 

“That isn’t a ‘no’,” she observes. Bernie arches an eyebrow, kneeling up again so that her face is closer to Serena’s. 

“No, it isn’t,” she replies simply, frankly knocking the breath out of Serena as she then leans forward to brush the tip of her nose along her jaw, humming and breathing in deeply before fastening her lips to her pulse point. Serena gasps, writhes, tilting her neck to allow her better access, murmuring her name. Bernie runs her tongue down the line of Serena’s neck, to the groove at the meeting of her collarbones, before pulling back again, moving her hands up to her breasts. Her blouse is positioned just so that Serena can’t quite see her nipples, and she watches hungrily as Bernie slips a hand beneath it, pinching herself roughly and hissing. 

“Mmh.”

She tilts her head back as Serena watches, her hips moving in rhythm with Bernie’s movements. She licks her lips, her breaths coming sharp.

“Let me see you.”

Bernie stands, and for a moment Serena thinks she’s about to turn away, to ignore her command. But instead she sits herself on Serena’s thigh, one arm around her shoulders for balance, her breasts in perfect alignment with Serena’s line of sight.

“I saw you trying to look down my top today,” Bernie growls in her ear. Serena’s heart stops, a jolt of arousal shooting between her legs at her words and she moans, her eyes rolling back into her head. Bernie seems to notice this reaction and chuckles. “You only had to ask.”

She pulls back, and Serena meets her gaze hazily, her eyes dark as Bernie slowly pulls the fabric apart until now Serena can see her naked breasts. She doesn’t know how, but they seem to get better each night, every time becoming more and more deliciously irresistible. She pants as she watches Bernie touch herself, watches her nipples hardening beneath her fingertips and the spreading across her chest.

Then, as before, Bernie is fisting her hands in Serena’s hair, tugging her face down so that her nipple is brushing against Serena’s bottom lip. Serena grunts in restraint, squeezing her eyes shut, but she feels a shift tonight. Perhaps it’s because she is more used to the idea now, perhaps it’s because of this new power that Bernie has given her tonight. But she finds herself daring to open her mouth, just a little, just enough that she can dip out her tongue and taste Bernie’s skin and pass it off as accidental if she needs to.

“Serena!” Bernie gasps as she feels the new heat on the tip of her nipple, and almost without thinking she is pulling Serena’s hair tighter, arching her back wantonly until, after a second’s hesitation, Serena captures her nipple roughly between her lips, her clit pulsing almost painfully as Bernie moans and writhes above her, chanting her name. Serena lets it from her mouth with a pop, tilting her head to take the other between her teeth, and Bernie cries out, panting over and over how good she feels. 

But, while Serena would be more than happy for it to go on forever, eventually Bernie pulls back, and Serena moans lewdly as she sees her lipstick staining the skin of Bernie’s breasts, sees how swollen her nipples are from Serena’s mouth on them. Bernie stands, her cheeks flushed and her hairline damp, turning back from Serena for a moment, seemingly gathering herself, before twisting her body again, getting back into rhythm with the CD she had put on. She cups her ass over the skirt, giving it a rough squeeze, slapping harder than Serena had ever seen and throwing her head back with a gasp. Then she’s gently tugging the blouse from her waist, shrugging it off, tossing it aside. She turns back to Serena, a smirk on her lips, and then she is running her hands down her thighs again, hitching up the skirt, and Serena’s mouth waters as she lifts it higher and higher, before stopping just above the lace of her stockings. 

Serena stares, her eyes wide as Bernie steps towards her. 

“Lie back,” she orders. 

Serena frowns for a moment, looking around her, before twisting so that she is now laid on the chaise longue, propped up on the backrest at one end. Bernie struts over to her, tugs the skirt up a little more, but still not all the way, just enough that she can straddle her. Serena whimpers, her knuckles white at her sides, her chest arching and her hips rocking. 

Bernie puts a hand either side of Serena’s head, her eyes, as always, lingering on her lips before looking down at her trembling body. She smirks, raising her head, and shuffles up a little, so that her knees are either side of Serena’s hips. 

Then Serena can only watch in awe as she raises it up to her waist, revealing the suspenders, the garter belt, and, more importantly, that other than that she was completely bare beneath the pencil skirt. 

Serena’s mouth waters as she sees Bernie’s sex for the second time. It’s killing her, not being able to touch, to taste. She wants to ask her to sit on her face, to ride her tongue until she comes in her mouth. Her cunt spasms hard at that thought. 

“Are you not going to ask me if I was like this all day, Ms Campbell?” Bernie smiles sweetly as she runs her fingers up the insides of her thighs, her hips moving steadily above her. All Serena can do is grunt, and Bernie smirks, leaning down and taking the skin at the base of Serena’s neck between her teeth.

“It’s all for you,” she murmurs, her lips coming back up to her ear. She sucks on Serena’s earlobe. “When I woke up this morning, and I was getting dressed, it was you in my mind.” Serena groans, pants, bites down hard on her lip as Bernie’s hips rock downwards, brushing hers. Bernie moans herself, then leans back, her hand moving between her legs, stroking up and down her folds as Serena watches, spellbound. She brings her fingers up to her lips, holding Serena’s eye. 

“All for you.”

Serena thinks she could cry, she’s so desperate for a touch that she’s on the border of being in agony. And seeing Bernie like this, dripping wet and with Serena’s name on her lips, has the younger woman’s head spinning. It feels so real, this, and she keeps having to remind herself that it’s not, that Bernie is only here because she’s paid to be. _No feelings_ , she chants inwardly, _no feelings_. 

But God, Bernie Wolfe is beautiful, as she rides her fingers, her eyelids closed, her mouth open slightly. Serena wants to kiss her, wants to fuck her, wants to love her, but she resolves in her mind that this is a good second-best. Too good to allow feelings to ruin. 

And feelings quick become the last thing on her mind as now Bernie is gazing at her again, her eyes hazy, her mouth wet and inviting, and lifts her hand, her fingers glistening, and puts it to Serena’s lips. 

Serena’s brain seems to shut down. Without even thinking, she opens her mouth, taking Bernie’s fingers full inside and tasting her, devouring her, her lips fastening around her knuckle as she moans in delight. It tastes better than she ever imagined; it’s salty and it’s sweet and more than anything it’s just so deliciously _Bernie_ that she moans again, wanting to commit the taste to memory forever. 

She makes a noise of protest as Bernie pulls away, shuffling off her to quickly make rid of the skirt bunched at her waist. Serena watches through hooded eyes as she stands in all her glory, stark naked but for the black suspender belt, stockings and high heels. She rakes her gaze up and down her friend’s body in awe, and Bernie grins at her, giving her a twirl, turning around and bending over slightly to slap her ass. 

Then she’s back straddling her friend, and Serena is just thinking how she just might survive this but then Bernie is lying flat against her, between her legs, and, as if that isn’t enough to make Serena’s head explode, Bernie reaches around her, squeezing Serena’s thigh before tugging on it and hitching it around her waist so that now Serena’s legs are spread wider than before, and Bernie’s hips are brushing right against her core through her trousers and it’s too much, too much sensation to bear and Serena squeals as Bernie rocks against her, her mouth on her neck, nibbling, biting, and Serena suddenly feels herself building up, expanding, soaring, and her breaths are ragged and her teeth are drawing blood from her bottom lip as she fights the inevitable, until suddenly she’s too far gone to have any more control over her body and she rocks her hips blindly, frantically, despite her best efforts to stay still. The buckle on Bernie’s suspender belt is bumping against her _just so_ that it’s too much, it’s too good and suddenly she is coming, her fingernails digging painfully into her palm as she fights not to grab her friend and bring their lips together. She’s gasping for air, moaning, shaking as her sex contracts over and over, the aftershocks almost as powerful as the orgasm itself and she doesn’t even realise that Bernie has stopped moving until she feels her fingertips on her temple, gently brushing Serena’s hair off her sweaty forehead. 

Bernie’s looks both concerned and surprised, and Serena can’t quite gage whether it is in a good or a bad way. 

“Did you just…?” Bernie murmurs, her eyes wide and searching, her teeth toying with her lip. Serena’s mouth falls open, her heart stopping, her mind frantic. _What have I done?_

“No, no. Of course not,” she stammers, scrambling to sit up. Bernie rests back on her calfs so that Serena can move, her face confused.

“Are you okay?” She asks, her hand resting on Serena’s thigh. Serena is in blind panic now, embarrassment twitching her gut as she look anywhere but her friend. 

“Absolutely fine. Oh, look at the time! I really should be—“ 

“Serena,” Bernie places a hand on Serena’s arm as she makes to get up, her thumb brushing her arm soothingly. It takes a few moments before Serena looks her in the eye, and, opposite to the judgement and disgust she expected to see there, all she can see is care. 

“Breathe,” Bernie nods softly, her voice gentle as a sigh. Serena pauses, before relaxing slightly, taking a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Bernie murmurs, shifting so that she is perched on the edge of the chaise longue next to her friend. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

Serena looks up and sees the worry in her eyes. “No, no. Sorry. You just… took me a bit off guard.” She pauses, then realises she’s fooling no one. “Oh, how frightfully embarrassing.” She runs a hand over her face.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” Bernie insists, trying her best to dispel the awkwardness. “It’s a perfectly normal… bodily function. At least I know I’m doing something right,” she jokes, and Serena looks up at her with a raised eyebrow, and they smile, relieved that they have such a comfortable friendship. They both know that no matter what happens, they always have one another’s backs. And that, perhaps, is why they’re so scared of these feelings between them, because one false word could dismantle everything, could ruin what both of them considered to be the best friendship of their life. Was anything worth that sacrifice?

Eventually, Serena sighs. “I really should be going, you know,” she starts, as her legs regain enough function for her to stand. “I’m on an early shift tomorrow.” 

“Oh, you shouldn’t have come!” 

“No, I wanted to,” Serena insists, hiding her blush as Bernie quickly pulls her skirt and blouse back on. She goes to fetch her things from the hanger. 

“You will come again, wont you?” Bernie asks, half nervously. Serena turns around, gives her a nod. 

“Definitely.”

Bernie beams, and they walk together back down the stairs to the main club, right to the door. Bernie shivers, pulling her blouse a little tighter around herself. 

“I’ll see you in work then.”

“Yes, see you. When are you next here?” Serena adds as an afterthought. 

Bernie searches the air. “Um, Wednesday.”

“Wednesday it is, then.” Serena winks. 

Bernie chuckles lightly. “I’ll look forward to it. And I promise to go a little easier on you next time.”

Serena turns to make leave, but hesitates, turning back to Bernie with a smirk. 

“Don’t.”

And with that she’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed!


	6. doctor won't you do with me what you can

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I am absolutely swamped with uni, so bear that in mind waiting for the next update! Also bear in mind my brain is fuzzy from it all too :P 
> 
> The dress that Bernie wears is something like [this](https://d3f650ayx9w00n.cloudfront.net/940/64474-00.jpg), but in black.
> 
> Enjoy!

_[Song for this chapter: Outside - George Michael](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gwZAYdHcDtU) _

* * *

 Bernie is right. The next morning when Serena arrives in work she has a message on her desk for her to go and see Hanssen at her earliest convenience. He tells her about the new funding and the proposal, and she tells him that she would be more than happy for the extensions to happen, and for Bernie to have reign over the entire project. He signs it off, and preparations get in motion almost immediately. 

Serena thinks she has never known Bernie so chuffed with herself. When Serena texts to give her the good news, she can practically hear the excitement in her words. Bernie tells her how she had spent the morning looking at the potential budget, and her proposal was to add another two beds to the trauma unit, and use the majority of the money to look at introducing some more high tech, specialised equipment, so that the hospital could accept trauma patients from a larger catchment area and offer some of the most reputable expertise in the country. Serena smiles fondly as she scrolls down the large message, her heart swelling in her chest at her friend’s adorable enthusiasm. And then she gets to the end of the message, and her heart is in her throat. 

_Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow night ;)_

She scans the screen again, her stomach fluttering at the reminder. Less than twelve hours ago, when she had last seen her friend, she had been so lost in her, so worked up that she came in her pants, loud and unrestrained as she passed the point of rationality and instead was overcome by an orgasm so intense, so carnal that the only thing her mind could focus on was Bernie brushing against her, pushing her over the edge. She’s never felt like that before, has never lost that control. She’s a strong woman; she knows her body, knows what she likes, which buttons to press, has pleasuring herself down to a fine art. Three fingers inside, hard pressure on her clit. With a partner, she would always go on top, would ride them like there was no tomorrow, one hand on her breast, the other between her legs. That’s how it has always been. Yet even with her most powerful, mind-numbing orgasms, she still felt in control, could still have held on that little bit longer had she wanted to. She thought she knew what she liked. But then here is Bernie Wolfe, a _woman_ , sending her undone without even taking her trousers off. 

Maybe it’s just hormones, she thinks as she taps out a quick _‘you too ;)’_ and gets back to work, a final surge after two long years of menopause. She can’t remember ever being this horny, not even when she was pregnant with Elinor. It’s like a switch has been flicked inside her, and suddenly she’s got a one track mind: Bernie Wolfe. 

And in thirty-six hours, forty-two minutes and eight seconds, she will get to see her again, in all her glory. She’ll feel those soft curves brushing against her, sending every nerve in her body into overdrive, and God… she can’t wait.

::

Bernie Wolfe has a crush. 

She turns over in bed, mentally scolding herself for the Cheshire Cat’s grin on her lips as she receives a text back from Serena. _You too ;)_. It wasn't a reply that should have provoked as much joy as it did, really, but she could have told Bernie to fuck off and she would still smile at her colleague’s delightful way with words. Teenagers aren’t as pathetic as she is right now, she thinks. She’s in deep, and there’s no denying it. 

It’s ridiculous, she tells herself repeatedly, has been telling herself for months now. Serena Campbell is straight, painfully so. She would never be interested in someone such as herself, a _woman_. But that was before she had turned up at the club, her eyes wide as a deer in headlights, and trembled beneath her as she danced, gazed at her with such awe that it made her almost tear up. And the way she had writhed and moaned, keened, had Bernie’s self-restraint in near tatters. She doesn’t know how she managed to resist ravishing her then and there.

And then, last night, she had watched as her friend orgasmed at her touch for the first time, caught the exact moment that her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth gasped her name over and over in her memory to be kept forever. Oh, in just twelve hours she had replayed that moment in her mind more times than she could count. She hadn’t even tried to make it home before getting herself off, she was too close for that. All it took was a couple of strokes to her clit in the ladies toilet before she was climaxing against her hand, her teeth sharp on her lip as she fought not to cry out. And then, with an extra spring in her step, she went back to work. 

But once her shift was over, unlike usual, she couldn’t sleep. No, even after a long day shift and then working until 3am at the club, she was wide awake. Her stomach was full of too many butterflies, her mind alive with too many possibilities. If Serena had been that turned on as to come just from Bernie grinding against her, then surely that must mean something? She hopes, prays it does, but still there’s that niggling doubt in her brain that keeps her holding back. If she were to make a move on Serena, to confess her feelings and it go badly, then she would lose both Serena’s friendship and her presence at the club, and she loves her too much, too deeply to risk that. So she sticks to her resolve: provoke Serena as far as possible, and pray that she cracks.

And boy, does she pray. 

::

Thankfully, Bernie’s day shift on Wednesday is a busy one, so she has some distraction from watching the clock all day. The summer, though drawing to a close, seems to be throwing out one final burst of sunshine. The air is humid, and the ward suffocating as they battle the inevitable crowd of sunstroke and second-degree burns from those a little too enthusiastic to get the barbecue out. She thinks of her usual Wednesday night outfit - a skin-tight glossy black latex miniskirt and matching crop top - and winces at the thought of the way the hot air would make it stick to her skin. And then she has an idea. 

She pulls out her phone from her desk drawer, hesitates, then taps out a message, hitting send before she has chance to chicken out. 

_My usual outfit for tonight isn’t really fit for this weather, so I was wondering if you might have any suggestions/requests…? ;)_

She chews her lip, eyeing the phone discarded on her desk nervously as she awaits a reply. After five minutes of wasted time, she decides to work a little more on her ideas for the trauma unit. It’s another five minutes before she gets a reply. 

_If this is your way of trying to stop me getting bored of you, as you put it, don’t! You’re more than good enough as you are, darling._

Her heart aches and her eyes soften and she reads over the message, trying to think of anywhere she would rather be right now than in this woman’s arms. She sighs, the grin never leaving her lips as she replies. 

_Noted. Humour me._

Just as she’s tapped send Morven shouts for a trauma call. She grabs her stethoscope, rushing off and leaving her phone in the desk. 

She’s in theatre for more or less the remainder of the day, with several more traumas coming in throughout the afternoon. By the time she’s clocking off, she’s completely forgotten about her message to Serena, and her reply makes her frown for a second before she realises and her stomach flutters with anticipation. 

_Something black, perhaps a babydoll or chemise? Something a little transparent ;)_

Racking her brains for her wardrobe, she thinks of the perfect outfit, and squeezes her legs tight together as she drives home to prepare for the night ahead. 

::

To her surprise, Serena is nervous as she gets ready for her evening at the club. It’s not that she’s scared, or uncomfortable; it’s a delicious kind of nervousness that comes from the fact that she has absolutely no idea what to expect tonight. On Monday, she had told Bernie not to go easy on her when she returned, and going by Bernie’s text today, and the darkness that clouded over her eyes at Serena’s words, she was definitely going to oblige. 

She applies a fresh layer of lipstick, staring at herself in the mirror as she rubs her lips together, remembering how Bernie’s nipple had felt between them. Her clit pulses. Would Bernie let her do that again? Would they push the boundaries even more tonight? Her stomach flutters in anticipation. She hopes to high heaven that they do, doesn’t dare even begin to imagine the things she’d let Bernie do to her, the things she would do to Bernie. There is so little she wouldn’t give, right now, to be able to kiss her, ravage her. It’s not that much of a step up, she reasons, patting a stray hair into place in the hallway mirror; she has had her lips on Bernie’s nipple, after all. Surely one little kiss wouldn’t be too far over the mark. 

But she knows, really, that it’s not that simple. A kiss is so much more, and she could never have just one. No, she would devour her. She’s been starving for her for so long that she wouldn’t be able to tear herself away. And to pull back and see the hurt in Bernie’s eyes, the confusion, the disgust at her actions… Serena wouldn’t be able to bear it. She knows the rules. It’s like a mantra in her head now. _Absolutely no touching._ It is a rule in place to protect the dancers. For Serena to ignore that, to disrespect her friend’s professional boundaries like that, would surely be the greatest betrayal, from which their relationship could never recover. So she puts it in the back of her mind, does not allow herself to dwell on it. She will enjoy herself, pay her fee like all the others, let Bernie take things as far as she likes, but it _must_ be on her terms. 

Not that Serena won’t do everything she can to encourage her.

Beginning her walk to the club, she immediately regrets bringing her jacket with her. The night air is humid, the breeze nonexistent as she feels her skin warming up, cursing this late burst of heat. As she nears the club, she stops at a small convenience store to get some cash out. Passing the drinks fridges on her way out, she hesitates, chewing her lip, then decides to get Bernie a gift to congratulate her on the new funding. She quickly pays, shoves the bottle under her jacket to smuggle in, and continues to the club. 

For the first time, Bernie is waiting for her when she arrives. She’s relieved, truly, as despite the coolness of the bottle radiating through her clothes, she’s still overheating wearing her jacket. And this heat isn’t helped in the slightest by what Bernie is wearing. As requested, she has chosen a lacy babydoll dress, all black and with a halter neck. Serena gulps as she takes her in, sees the outline of her curves through the fabric, sees the outlines of her nipples through the lace cups. The hem of the skirt rests about a quarter of the way down her thighs, just above her usual black lace hold ups, and instantly Serena is overcome by images of herself lifting it up, revealing what lay beneath, dipping down for a taste…

“Evening,” Bernie’s greeting snaps her out of her trance, and she quickly looks back up to Bernie’s face. She bites her lip as Bernie eyes her bulging jacket with confusion. “Shall we?” Serena nods, then seemingly without a second thought Bernie takes her hand and leads them up the stairs to the same room they had been in on Monday, again instructing the bouncer outside to leave them to it. 

They’re barely inside before Serena is opening her jacket, moaning at the heat. Bernie frowns at her, then her features soften in realisation as she pulls out the bottle. 

“To say congratulations,” Serena near pants, shedding her jacket and outer blouse and hanging them up. “For the trauma unit.” 

Bernie beams at her. “Thank you. You shouldn’t have.” She places a gentle hand on Serena’s forearm, and leans in to give her a soft peck on the cheek, nearly sending Serena into cardiac arrest as she did so. It’s funny, she things, how much more tactile Bernie has become around her, since she started visiting the club. If it were anyone else, Serena would say she was coming on to her. Perhaps it’s simply because she feels more comfortable around her now, since they share this secret together, this physical connection. Bernie isn’t coming on to her, she tells herself, it’s just that there are less boundaries between them now, so these little touches come more naturally to them. That’s all. 

“Great minds think alike.” Serena blinks as Bernie gestures to the table, and she sees that already set out there are two glasses, an ice bucket and another bottle of champagne. “Looks like we’ll be having one each.” Serena arches an eyebrow. 

“Anyone would say we were trying to get one another drunk,” she comments before she can stop herself. Bernie shoots her a conspiring look, her eyes dark and warm. 

“Now there’s a thought,” she smirks, and Serena’s mouth falls open slightly as her friend winks at her, before turning away to go and sit down. Serena takes the bait and sits down next to, rather than across from her. If Bernie was going to flirt with her, however meaningless it might be, she sure as hell was going to give as good as she got. 

Bernie raises an eyebrow at her as she moves along slightly, reaching to tug the ice bucket closer to her. “God, that’s melted already!” She exclaims, shaking her head. “It really is too warm in here. I did tell them that they should get air conditioning in these rooms, especially without windows.” 

Serena fans herself. “Yes, it is rather stifling in here. Though you’re not in much of a position to complain.” She looks Bernie up and down pointedly. Bernie laughs, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks as she pops the cork of the first bottle of champagne and begins to pour them both a glass. 

“I can’t argue with that,” she replies, handing Serena a glass, avoiding her eyes. “Was this quite the outfit you had in mind?” 

Serena smirks at her. “Better than.” Her eyes are, as often, drawn to her friend’s breasts, her sex aching as she sees the outline of her nipples through the thin mesh. She licks her lips, imagines how it would feel to take one in her mouth over the fabric, bites back a groan.

Bernie clears her throat and Serena looks back up to see her eyeing her amusedly. She coughs, squeezing her thighs together a little tighter. 

“To the trauma unit,” Serena toasts, raising her glass to clink it with Bernie’s. She pauses, before adding, “You’ve done me very proud.”

She meets Bernie’s eye, and the trauma surgeon states at her for a few moments, her eyes penetrating, before nodding. “To the trauma unit,” she repeats. “And to you. I doubt I’d have done it without you, and there’s no one I would rather have by my side.” She gives her a small smile. Serena’s heart skips a beat, and suddenly she feels like crying. The emotions that this woman makes her feel… It crosses her mind that she really is in too deep, but she quickly distracts herself, deciding that work might be the best topic to continue on, for now.

Before long, they are chatting away without a care in the world. After they’ve talked about the trauma unit, they move on to talking about home, about their families, about upcoming medical conferences and other tedious meetings they were dreading. 

The second bottle of champagne is opened, and almost without realising it they have gravitated towards one another, close enough that now their legs are touching beneath the table. Serena squirms at the contact, feeling her skin heating up as Bernie carries on telling her about her strained relations with Cameron and Charlotte. Is Bernie brushing her calf against hers on purpose? Serena’s breath is caught in her throat. The alcohol has loosened her control somewhat, and she’s finding it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes on Bernie’s face. She wants to reach out, place a hand on Bernie’s thigh, gently brush up underneath her dress. She wonders if Bernie is as wet as she has been the other nights, if Bernie too is feeling the air thickening, feeling the hot sting of arousal. Can she see how her eyes have darkened? 

Serena thinks perhaps yes, as Bernie’s hand now comes to rest on her thigh, though still she carries on talking about her children. Serena bites the insides of her cheeks as Bernie drags her fingertips slowly up and the fabric of her trousers, her calf still warm against Serena’s, and soon they are sat so close what they are almost pressed together, and Bernie’s lips are in dangerous proximity to Serena’s own. She feels a blush creeping across her chest, her head wavy with the champagne so that it feel almost as if gravity has shifted, and is now drawing her towards Bernie, towards her lips. 

She doesn’t realise that Bernie has stopped talking for almost a minute after she has. The gaze at one another for a few moments, Bernie’s gaze flickering from her eyes to her lips and back again. 

“You seem rather flushed, Ms Campbell,” Bernie observes, her voice low. Serena blinks, biting her lip. 

“I’m feeling quite distracted at the moment,” she replies, looking pointedly down at Bernie’s hand on her lap. Bernie raises an eyebrow, watching as she grazes her fingertips along Serena’s thigh.

“Ah,” she hums, her gaze still resting on her hand. “Would you like me to stop?” 

“No,” Serena says a little too quickly. “That’s the very last thing I want you to do.”

She watches as Bernie’s lips twist into a wide smirk. 

“What would you rather I did?” 

Her voice is almost a purr, low and dark and dangerous. Serena feels herself flush brighter, feels herself gushing, feels her clit pulsing, and again shifts in her seat. What could she possibly answer to that? Could she tell her she wanted her to touch her, to bite her, to fuck her until she was sore and spent? Could she really say out loud that she wanted her to make her come again? Was that what Bernie wanted?

But Serena can’t say any of those things, not really. So she leans forward, places her lips to Bernie’s ear, purposefully takes a moment to breathe in her perfume before speaking. 

“I want you to dance for me, Berenice.”

She pulls back to see Bernie staring at her with such raw desire, such heat that her vision blurs slightly. 

“Lead the way.” 

After a brief pause, Serena stands on shaky legs, her head swimming with the alcohol and the anticipation. To her surprise, she feels Bernie slipping her hand into hers, giving it a squeeze of encouragement and then it is Serena who is leading Bernie to the other end of the room. She turns and perches on the chaise longue, her hand still interlinked with Bernie’s as she rests back, encouraging the other woman to straddle her. 

Bernie allows her to tug her a little longer dropping her hand, instead grasping her shoulders to steady herself as she places one knee either side of Serena’s thighs. Despite the alcohol in her system, Serena’s hands return to their default position, but she makes sure this time to let Bernie know just how much she wants her, as she rakes her eyes up and down her body, licking her lips and allowing a soft groan to escape her. Bernie sees this, smirks, and leans backwards slightly, allowing Serena a better view as she takes one hand from her shoulder and carefully lifts the hem off her dress, allowing Serena to see the skimpy fabric covering the apex of her thighs. Serena groans again, rutting her hips upwards automatically, something which is not lost on Bernie. 

“Patience is a virtue, Ms Campbell,” she teases, leaning forwards again and now pressing her body flush against Serena’s, her lips on her neck. Serena opens her mouth to speak, but this instead turns to a sharp moan as Bernie nips at the base of her neck, remembering how Serena enjoyed it before. Serena comes back to herself, her eyes dark.

“Virtues are very low down on my list of priorities right now, Ms Wolfe,” she breathes, arching her back to press herself tighter against Bernie. “I would have thought you’d recognise that by now." 

"Ah, yes," Bernie murmurs in Serena's ear, her teeth grazing the lobe as Serena shudders. "Coming in your pants. Not very virtuous at all, really, is it?” She brushes her fingertips along Serena's spin, further causing her to arch into her. Serena feels a blush creeping into her cheeks at the mention of the other night, despite herself. 

"Well," she replies, her eyelids fluttering closed as Bernie drags her lips along her jawline. "I wouldn't blame myself for that.”

“I’m not complaining,” Bernie whispers, rocking her hips against Serena’s for emphasis. Then she stands back, and Serena watches hazily as she twists herself around the pole in the centre of the room, lifting herself up, wrapping her legs around it and letting Serena watch as she drags her sex along the cool metal, hissing at the contact.

Serena sits herself up a little straighter, her back arched, her nipples hard and desperate to be touched as she watches Bernie bring a hand up to her breast, squeeze roughly, throw her head back. She stalks back to Serena, turning around, bending over so that the dress rides up just enough for her to see her ass.

“Spank yourself for me,” Serena chokes out, and with a devilish grin Bernie does as she’s told, listening to Serena’s little moans and whimpers as she does so. Then she nudges Serena’s legs apart, perches herself between them, rests her head back on Serena’s shoulder. She pushes her ass back so as to press firmly against her friend’s sex, and Serena moans as she bucks her hips, her breaths coming ever sharper as Bernie tugs down the straps of her dress, revealing her hard nipples, pinching them between her thumb and forefinger as Serena continues to grind herself against her. 

But there’s a problem. 

Serena’s panting continues as Bernie dances on her, but now she can feel white hot heat in her chest and rising up her neck. She swallows thickly, cursing her body as she feels her heart begin to palpitate, feels sweat beading on her chest and on her forehead. She counts the seconds in her head, begging the heat to go away, but the combination of the alcohol and the stuffy room makes it impossible, and soon she is gasping for air. 

“Bernie. Bernie, stop a moment.” 

She freezes in an instant, quickly turning around to look at her friend in concern. 

“Serena, are you alright?” She asks urgently, standing up and instead sitting herself beside her. Serena sighs heavily. 

“Hot flash,” she pants, fanning herself. Bernie’s eyes widen in recognition. 

“Ah,” she nods, lifting her own hand to help waft some air over Serena’s burning skin. “The joys of middle age.”

“It really is too hot in here,” Serena comments. Bernie agrees.

“I’ll get you some ice. Will that help?” She asks, going to stand and pulling the straps back up on her dress. “And water?”

Serena nods, groaning. “I’d prefer a San Miguel.” Bernie laughs. 

“I’ll see what I can find. Wait here a moment.”

She watches as Bernie totters away, snorting as her friend wobbles slightly on her heels. They’d polished off both bottles of champagne, and she was certain that Bernie had drunk a good deal more than she had, even though she was feeling fairly tipsy herself. She groans again as she feels another wave of heat come over her, cursing her dwindling hormones for rendering her so pitiful.

“Come on.”

She turns her head to the doorway at Bernie’s voice, looking her up and down as she stands with an ice bucket balanced on one hip, a bottle of water and two bottles of beer sticking out of it. Serena frowns. 

“Where are we going?” 

“You’ll see.” Bernie strides into the room now, offering Serena a hand up. She takes it, being careful not to topple her friend over as she does so, and Bernie leads them back down the corridor, past the top of the stairs to the rest of the club and through another velvet curtain. Serena thinks that she is quite lost right now and wonders at Bernie’s sense of direction as every turn they take seems to look identical to the last. Eventually they reach a fire door, and Bernie takes a moment to check it’s not alarmed before pushing it open, leading them out onto a small rooftop terrace above the club. 

Serena makes a small noise of content as she feels the cool night air against her skin, running a hand over her forehead. Bernie leads them to the edge of the rooftop, balancing the ice bucket between herself and the railing as she pulls out the bottle of water, twisting of the cap and handing it to Serena. 

She murmurs her thanks, taking a large swig before handing it back to her. Bernie places the bucket on the floor, before leaning against the railing next to Serena. 

“It’s strange. I’ve never had hot flashes with my change,” she says airily, as if trying to fill the new silence between them. Serena barks out a laugh. 

“Lucky you.” She groans. “Oh, I could just use a cold compress or something right now.” She fans herself again. 

“Here.” Bernie moves to stand in front of her. “My hands are cold from holding that bucket.” She hesitates for the slightest moment before placing a hand over Serena’s forehead, the other on the back of her neck. Serena sighs and leans into her touch, her eyes fluttering closed and a contented smile creeping onto her lips. 

“Ah… Marvellous…” She murmurs, and Bernie grins at her fondly, taking a moment to simply gaze at her, to notice every line, every wrinkle, every scar, every blemish. She wishes she could kiss her, but now isn’t the time. Will there ever be a time? Will she ever work up the bottle to just _do it_? 

She clears her throat. 

“Have I ever told you,” she starts, still not taking her eyes off her. “How beautiful you look when you’re flustered?”

Serena stops at this, her eyes widening ever so slightly in surprise. She hadn’t expected that at all, and again she feels that building of emotion at the back of her throat. She clears it. 

“No. No, you haven’t.” 

“Ah,” Bernie murmurs, seemingly unable to look at her friend now. “Well, now you know.”

Though she is looking down, Serena can see the blush in Bernie’s cheeks. She, unthinkingly, brings her hand up to her waist, lightly resting it there, gently brushing the skin with her thumb. Bernie resists the urge to squirm under her touch, the gentle caresses sending heat straight to her groin and making her knees weak. This, she notes, is the first time that Serena has touched her, whilst they’ve been in the club. The thought almost makes her moan. She’s been so starved of her touch for so long, she never wants it to end, wants Serena to touch her all over, to be rough with her, to claim her as her own, to do with her as she pleased. But now wasn’t the time, and she knew that. So instead she looks back up, still avoiding eye contact, trying to think of something else to say. 

“I’m sorry I interrupted your dance,” Serena interjects, beating her to it. “Damn my hormones.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bernie smiles, looking up at the starry sky above them. “The night is still young.”

“But don’t you have other clients to see to?” Serena asks. “I’d hate to keep you—“

“Of course not,” Bernie interrupts, her thumb brushing the hair at the nape of Serena’s neck. “I’ve told you, I’m under no obligation to dance for anyone I don’t want to. And right now, I’d much rather be dancing for you.” She meets her eye sincerely. 

Serena pauses, rubbing her lips together, her eyes warm. “Well, I can’t argue with that,” she murmurs, biting the insides of her cheeks to hide a grin. Bernie stare at her contemplatively for a few moments, noticing how Serena’s skin had begun to turn back to its usual tone, and brings her hands down to Serena’s shoulders, giving them a light squeeze. 

“You know, seeing as it is so hot in there,” she begins, arching an eyebrow in challenge. “I could always just dance for you here.” 

Serena gapes for a moment, her pupils dilating at the thought. “People might see,” she worries, looking around them. The roof was quite high up, however, and there was very little places from which someone could be spying on them. “And there’s nowhere to sit.” 

Bernie grins, her mind firmly made up now. “Well, you’ll just have to stand then, Ms Campbell.” She’s already pressing her body closer to her, one leg placed expertly between her thighs. Serena moans, automatically moving her hips forwards, grinding herself on her friend’s leg. Bernie laughs, teasing, lifting her knee a little more firmly before pulling back, her hands coming up to push the straps of her dress from her shoulders, straight away revealing her breasts as Serena let’s out another moan.

“You’re so beautiful.” 

Bernie fights a blush at Serena’s words, instead bringing her hand up to her nipple, watching as it hardened beneath her touch, letting out a gentle whimper as she did so. She turns, leans back against Serena, fights hard not to growl in protest as her friend’s hand falls from her waist and instead moves to grip the railing behind her, holding herself up. Bernie brushes her body against Serena’s, nudging her legs apart and dropping to a squat in front of her, her hands running down Serena’s thighs as she does so. 

“Do I make you weak at the knees, Ms Campbell?” She asks, turning back around to face her, dragging her lips along her inner thigh and dangerously close to Serena’s crotch. She notices how her friend’s legs tremble, and allows herself to smirk in satisfaction. 

Serena seems to be beyond all coherent response, simple watching and clinging onto the railing for dear life as Bernie brushes her lips over the front of her trousers, lingering there for a moment. 

“Do I make you wet?” She asks, and she surprises even herself with her brazenness. Serena simply moans, the vibrations from Bernie’s voice doing unspeakable things to her cunt as she feels herself pulsing. She’s heating up again, she can feel, but it’s a different heat now. It’s the delicious heat of pent up anticipation, of want. She had been so worked up, had been aching for her all day, had resisted touching herself, just in preparation for this moment. And now…

“Tell me what you want from me, Serena.” 

And Serena is so far gone, so desperate for her, that she allows her control to slip, just a little. 

“I want you naked.” The words tumble from her lips, rushed and breathless. “I want to see you. I want to taste you again. Please.” She knows it’s the champagne talking, knows that under any other circumstances she wouldn’t dare to utter even a syllable of what she’s just said, and she clings onto the railing even more tightly, terrified of her resolve slipping any more. 

And Bernie does nothing to help that. At Serena’s words, she gasps, sits back on her heels and in one swift move lifts the dress over her head, tossing it aside before standing back up and shedding her knickers too, Serena watching open mouthed as her skin glows ivory in the moonlight. 

Then all Serena can here is her heart pounding and the sharp click of Bernie’s heels on the concrete as she steps towards her, slowly, torturously. And she leans forward, making sure not to allow their bodies to touch, yet, and whispers in Serena’s ear.

“You really want to _see_ me?” 

Serena whimpers and nods, then has to clench her fists even tighter as her knees wobble beneath her when Bernie raises one leg to rest her heel on the railing next to Serena’s hand, opening herself up, displaying herself completely to Serena in a way that she hasn’t before. Serena whimpers, groans, gasps, rocks her hips blindly against thin air in desperation as Bernie drags her fingers through her glistening heat, and Serena can see just how wet she is, how open she is as she dips two fingers inside herself, throwing her head back, murmuring Serena’s name. 

“Oh, fuck, Bernie,” Serena gasps as she watches her buck into her hand, watches her taste herself on her fingers before fucking herself again, colour rising in her cheeks, and then she stops, takes her fingers out of herself, moves to press herself flush against Serena, puts her fingers to her lips. 

“God, Bernie…”

Serena takes both fingers deep in her mouth, licking and sucking hungrily as Bernie begins to rut against her. She’s losing herself, her legs faltering as she feels the friction she so desperately needs, feels Bernie’s wet heat through her trouser leg. And then Bernie’s fingers have left her mouth, instead grasping her ass and holding her up as they rut against one another, Bernie’s lips on her neck, nipping and sucking. 

“You know,” she purrs between bites, gradually moving up her neck as she rocks herself harder, faster against Serena’s sex. Serena is panting now, gasping for air, her knuckles white on the railing. “I’m quite pleased… I got to test out a hypothesis the other night…” 

“Hypothesis?” Serena moans, throwing her head back as Bernie’s hands grip her ass tighter and her teeth bite sharp on her neck. 

“Yes,” Bernie continues softly, teasingly. “See, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, just wondering something… I think it started when we went to that hospital awards ceremony a couple of months ago… Do you remember… you wore that dress… the one with the shoulder pads?” 

Serena frowns at her, though is quickly distracted by the feeling of Bernie’s tongue dipping out, running along the line of her jaw. 

“You looked so fucking _sexy_ , Serena… and your shoulder pads… reminded me of my most favourite poem…”

“What… what on earth are you talking about?” Serena breathes, her back arching against Bernie as she feels herself building up, as she had the other night. 

“ _I bet you don’t wear shoulder pads in bed,_ ” Bernie whispers, and Serena makes a noise of confusion that quickly turns to a moan as Bernie changes the rhythm of her hips slightly, grasps Serena’s ass harder and grinds their bodies together. Serena knows she’s close, can feel the heat creeping up her neck, feels her cheeks flush, feels her stomach clench. 

“ _And if I whispered something just unseemly enough, I could make your ears turn red,_ ” Bernie continues, her lips moving right to Serena’s ear, and murmurs dark and low,

“ _I bet you blush all over when you come._ ” 

And she does, loud and hard and Bernie holds her up as her legs turn to jelly, her hips jerking rapidly and her whole body trembling. Bernie holds her close, wraps her arms around her waist, doesn’t let go until she feels Serena steadying herself again, her legs regaining function and her breaths settling into a regular rhythm. She feels Serena’s smile as she recovers, her chin resting on Bernie’s shoulder, their cheeks pressed together tightly. 

“When are you here next?” Serena breathes, her hands still on the rail though she leans into Bernie’s embrace. Something within her just can't allow her to let go.

“Hmm,” Bernie considers. Truthfully, her next shift isn’t booked until the following Tuesday, but she can’t bring herself to wait that long. “Sunday.” 

“I’ll be here,” Serena promises, without thinking brushing her cheek against Bernie’s and breathing her in. 

“I’ll be counting down the days,” Bernie replies, and she wishes she was lying. 

They don’t know how long they stay like that, resting against one another in the cool summer breeze, but eventually they manage to bring themselves to part, Serena not even bothering to look away as Bernie starts to redress herself. Bernie notices this, gives her a smirk and a twirl, and Serena laughs heartily, thinking to herself that she wants this for the rest of her life, could never tire of the woman before her. But that’s just the champagne speaking, of course. 

She can’t help but feel it, though, that little change in her vision. She knew before that she was attracted to her friend, that she wanted her more than anything she could imagine. But something about tonight, the way Bernie had cared for her, had been so gentle, so understanding, and how she had stood there, in the moonlight, and told her that she was beautiful, seemed to cause a shift in Serena. She had buried her feelings, had refused to acknowledge just how deep they ran, but now she had been given this glimmer of hope, the tiniest inkling that Bernie might feel the same. Sure, she knew that Bernie was attracted to her; that was evident from their dances before. But something about tonight just seemed that little bit more gentle, more intimate. And now Serena is helpless, the feelings crashing down upon her life a tidal wave. 

Because she loves Bernie Wolfe. She can’t deny it to herself any longer. It taints her every thought, her every action is affected by that little flutter in her gut, the swelling of love that is just too strong now to tame. Oh, how she wishes she had the strength to let Bernie know, how she wishes she could have let go of that railing, wrapped her arms tight around her friend, whispered in her ear how she truly felt. But she’s too scared; she’s absolutely terrified of losing her best friend. 

So she carries on as normal, flirts as normal as she leaves the club and walks home again in a hurry, arousal throbbing between her legs despite the recent orgasm. And she has the promise of more next week, too, and that’s what she chooses to focus on. She can’t allow herself to throw this away, to stop enjoying herself just because she’s allowed her feelings to get the better off her. 

But there was no doubt that she had feelings. She couldn’t lie to herself any longer. 

So she would keep going, keep her boundaries, keep paying her way and keep hoping that one day Bernie might feel the same way as she does. 

But then she freezes as she puts her key in the door, fishing around in her trouser pocket before pulling out a twenty pound note.

She didn’t pay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed! 
> 
> The poem that Bernie is quoting is called 'Wagers' by Marilyn Hacker and you can read it [here](https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=-VZTBAAAQBAJ&pg=PR6&lpg=PR6&dq=wagers+marilyn+hacker&source=bl&ots=JREOeXSATu&sig=eWsGNLT4vapKKZQW2MwGHDJ5xP4&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwji38vH7s_TAhVCL8AKHRyEBHoQ6AEINDAD). I'd really recommend the whole anthology, there's a lot of berena-relevant ones in there!


	7. you can't just leave me sitting here unseen to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long - I hope the length makes up for it! I've been rushed off my feet with uni, and probably will continue to be so bear with me :P
> 
> Thank you all so much for your amazing comments, I'm so overwhelmed with how kind you all are to me! Keep it coming <3
> 
> Enjoy!

_[Song for this chapter: All The Way - Busted](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkYP_wVqYXA) _

* * *

 The following Friday on AAU is unusually quiet, which in turn puts all staff on edge as they anticipate the next rush of patients to come through. Bernie, usually intent on manning the battlefield, is instead in their office for most of it, brow furrowed as she works through some of her new ideas for the trauma unit expansion. Serena finds it endearing, just how passionate Bernie is about this. She can't help that little tweak in her gut, the little flutter of affection that she gets every time she thinks of her. Even her most infuriating qualities - leaving the office in a state, not completing her paperwork, making rather a mess of both of their desks as she sifts through various pieces of paperwork that Serena knows she will be the one to clear up later. But she doesn’t mind, not really. She’d do anything for this woman, she realises. Just one smile from her, she thinks, is enough to keep her going for the rest of the day. Just being in the same room as her always seems to brighten her a little, can tame even the deepest of frowns.

Still, it plays on her mind, their latest night at the club. Serena had forgotten to pay her fee, and something about that makes her uneasy. Bernie either seems to not have realised, or not to care. But Serena does. Because if Bernie doesn't mind dancing for her for free, despite her financial difficulties, that can only mean two things: Bernie doesn't dance with her for the money, or she doesn't feel comfortable asking her for it. Guilt gnaws at her gut. Was she really that unapproachable? She thought they had an open friendship, that Bernie would feel comfortable asking her for anything. Though she quickly realises she's being hypocritical in that. Did Serena tell her everything that was on her mind about them? 

Absolutely not, because what's going through her mind... She shudders at the thought. If Bernie knew how she was really feeling, it would change their relationship forever. Serena loves her; she’s just about gotten her head around that now. But that's only the first step and she knows it. If only it were that simple. If only she could just bite the bullet, tell her, kiss her, take that risk. But she can't stand the thought that she would be pushing Bernie into doing something she didn't really want. It was like with the money; maybe she would just feel too uncomfortable to ask Serena for more boundaries between them. 

She knows she's being ridiculous, that Bernie would never allow herself to be taken advantage of by anyone, but still Serena can't shake the feeling. So she sticks with her plan. That is, to flirt to high heaven and beg that Bernie make the first move. 

But by the end of the day, the uneasiness about the missed payment gets too much, and she decides to ask Bernie about it. 

"Ah, there you are," Bernie says as she enters the office, never looking away from her computer. "I've begun drafting some initial ideas for the unit, if you'd like to look over and see if there's anything you'd like to add or amend. Then we can get it sent off to Hanssen for approval." 

"Of course," Serena replies, sitting down carefully in her chair and logging on to her computer. "I'll read through it tonight. I take it you're busy?" 

She smirks briefly up at her. "As ever."

Serena smiles at her, trying not to feel jealousy in her stomach as she remembers it won't be her that Bernie is dancing for tonight. She's quiet for a few moments, calculating her next move, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. 

"You, er, forgot this the other night." 

She holds out a twenty pound note over the desk. Bernie eyes it curiously, but makes no move to accept it. 

"You don't have to do that," she murmurs, shaking her head. 

"I don't want to take advantage."

"You wouldn't be." 

"Really, I insist." 

Bernie stares at her, her eyes narrowed slightly, her forehead creased, and Serena feels herself shrinking under her gaze. Bernie coughs suddenly, then looks back to her computer. 

"I mean, it wouldn't be right for me to take your money after you bought such an expensive bottle of champagne for me. I imagine that amounted to the fee more than three times over." 

Serena sighs, dropping her arm as it begins to ache. "I think you more than made up for that," she mutters to herself, but Bernie overhears and suddenly the office is filled by the delightful sound of that deep, honking laugh of hers, and the tension in Serena's body softens as the corners of her mouth turn upwards too. 

"I'll give you that one," Bernie manages to choke out eventually, her shoulders still jerking with laughter. "But seriously, keep your money." She goes back to typing on her computer, and Serena stares. There’s something she needs to say; she can feel it in the back of her throat. But just what it is, she doesn’t know. There’s something unspoken between them, something about this that needs to be addressed, but she can’t quite but it into words just yet, though it’s killing her to have this unknown. 

Luckily, the red phone rings to distract her, and she quickly rushes off to deal with the incoming trauma. By the time she’s out of theatre, Bernie has finished her shift for the evening, leaving the trauma proposals in a surprisingly neat pile on Serena’s desk, topped with a post-it note that reads _“See you on Sunday!”_

Serena smiles, collects her things, and heads off home. 

:: 

And so, over the next couple of weeks, that’s how they continue. They work hard together on building plans for the new trauma unit, Bernie focussing on the practical proposals whilst Serena manages the financial side. It takes up a lot of their time and energy, often staying behind long after their shifts have ended to finish up plans that needed to be sent off the following day, and the club becomes a sort of retreat from that, a wind-down of sorts for them both to relax and enjoy themselves. Serena, despite her original plan to only visit twice a week, ends up at the club at least three nights a week, under the pretence that she needed to see Bernie about the budget plans. Really, despite spending their entire days together, Serena still can’t keep herself away from Bernie on an evening. She thinks she’s addicted to it, to the feeling of Bernie moving against her, to the way she looks at her and the sounds she makes. 

And Bernie doesn’t seem to mind her coming so often. On occasion, when they had been working late, they even walked to the club together, Serena waiting patiently in their room whilst Bernie went off to the back to get changed into her work attire. It feels almost… domestic, the way in which their both their home and work lives have intertwined like this. Serena loves it, loves being this close to her friend, and every night she convinces herself to take things further, only to chicken out at the last minute, her knuckles remaining white at the side of her as Bernie brushed and rutted against her, always holding her tight as she came. Often afterwards they would simply lay side by side on the chaise longue, Bernie’s arms wrapped around Serena’s middle, enjoying the feeling of being together, like this. It’s these times when Serena really hates herself, for being such a coward. She wishes with all her being that she could just _do it_ , take that leap, but always she holds back. This connection they have is just too precious to her; she can’t let it slip away. She’s been lonely for too long, and she doesn’t know how she would cope going back to that, with losing her best friend. So she keeps her mouth shut. 

Well, not entirely shut. She still obeys Bernie’s request for her to talk to her during their sessions, groaning and whispering and whimpering just how good she feels, how sexy she is, how she’s been thinking of her like that all day. And when Bernie straddles her, topless and gyrating, and presses Serena’s mouth down to her nipple, she no longer hesitates in capturing it between her teeth, nibbling and sucking on it until Bernie is sweating and panting and tears herself away. And it is these moments that provoke a question, in Serena’s mind, and once the thought is there, she can’t get rid of it. It’s a curiosity, yes, and definitely one of Serena’s most favourite fantasies, but there is an element of guilt there too. Serena isn’t just thinking of her own enjoyment here, she tells herself, but Bernie’s too. 

But she can’t quite find the words to ask, just yet, so the thought remains locked in her mind, waiting for the right moment to be let out. And until then… Serena just lets her mind do the work. 

::

“I saw Hanssen today. He says we should be okay to start the building work in the next couple of weeks. Just gotta clear it with the health and safety lot.” 

It is a Wednesday night, and they’re slumped together on the sofa in their private room, Bernie laying her head on Serena’s shoulder tiredly. Today had been a long shift at work, with both of them having important meetings to attend but a multiple car trauma coming in and leaving them too stretched to be able to get away. Then, just as they were about to leave, a gunshot victim came in with massive internal haemorrhage needing an immediate trauma laparotomy. They had saved him, just, but both of them were exhausted from the day, and had yet to muster the energy to move any further than simply resting against one another, sipping their wine and for the most part staying in comfortable silence.

“When are the new staff interviews again?” 

“Next Thursday.” 

“Ah.”

“Then we should be able to set some training days for the end of next month, and then we’re good to go.”

“Excellent.”

They sit there a few minutes longer, Serena allowing her eyelids to flutter shut. It’s nice, this, just being with one another, being so comfortable together. She loves it, the feeling of Bernie’s body against her own, being able to feel the heat of her against her skin. She finds it oddly more intimate than the dancing, and for just a moment she can allow herself to imagine holding her in her arms, imagine they are at home, _their_ home, and relaxing together on the sofa. Serena would brush her lips to Bernie’s forehead as she nuzzled herself into the crook of her neck, would kiss the top of her head, would run her hands…

“Serena, are you asleep?” 

She feels Bernie lift her head from her shoulder to look at her, but can’t bring herself to open her eyes just yet. 

“I’m just resting my eyes,” Serena mumbles. 

Bernie laughs. “Yeah right,” she teases. “You should go home and get some rest.”

Serena’s eyes open at that. 

“No, I’m fine,” she says quickly, squeezing her eyes closed then open again in an attempt to perk herself up. “No need for that.”

Bernie laughs again, fondly nudging Serena’s shoulder. “If I’m really that boring, I could always go get you somebody else…” Serena looks at her in outrage, and she laughs a little louder, stretching her arms out in front of her. “I need to wake up too. I’m supposed to be going on the pole at two. I’ll be asleep by then at this rate.” 

Serena chuckles lightly. “I did some pole dancing once,” she muses, her head still rested against the back of the sofa, not quite having the energy to yet hold herself up. Bernie raises her eyebrows, her eyes widening. 

“You did?” She asks in shock. Serena laughs. 

“It was only a couple of times, and not like this. A bar my uni friends and I used to go to had one and I could never resist after I’d had a tipple.” 

Bernie smirks at her. “Now this I’ve definitely got to see.” 

Serena shakes her head. “No, no,” she replies, with a slight nostalgic smile. “I was never any good, and definitely wouldn’t be able to hold myself up now.” 

Bernie grins at her. “You don’t need to do any acrobatics,” she enthuses, stretching her legs out under the table and cracking her knuckles. “Come on. For me.” She lowers her voice, moving her lips up to Serena’s ear. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t imagined you up there.” 

Serena feels colour creeping into her cheeks, her stomach swimming and her breath hitching. She turns to look at her friend, who in response simply rakes her gaze up and down Serena’s body, her eyes darkened and one eyebrow raised in challenge. 

And Serena has never been one to refuse a challenge. Especially where Bernie Wolfe is concerned.

“Go on then.”

Bernie grins happily as she jumps up off the sofa, holding a hand out to Serena and heaving her up. Serena pouts a little as she leads her to the pole in the centre of the room, but really she doesn’t mind. _I’d be lying if I said I haven’t imagined you up there_. That thought does something to her, the idea that Bernie might look at her in that way, that Bernie thinks of her like that. It shoots straight to her core, and her knees feel weak as they approach the pole hand in hand. 

“I think you should go first, refresh my mind a bit,” Serena smirks, untangling their fingers and standing back. Bernie gives her a look, shaking her head fondly, but then stands forward and grips onto the pole with one hand, stepping around it before lifting herself up and twirling around, wrapping her legs around it as she allows herself to drop down. Serena watches in awe, allowing her gaze to follow the curve of Bernie’s body as she moves, and as always she feels her arms itching to touch. If only… 

“Your turn.” Bernie grins, coming back towards her. Serena takes a deep breath, before stepping forwards. 

“Tell me if I’m doing it wrong,” she murmurs, grabbing the pole with one hand and copying how Bernie had begun, moving around it and gathering enough momentum to lift herself up. But as she gets her legs around it she immediately slides down, her feet hitting the floor with a soft thud. She tries again, but the same happens and she looks at Bernie with a half awkward grin. 

“It’s your trousers,” Bernie explains, a glint in her eye. “You can’t grip it with them. That’s why they generally say to us ‘the more skin on show, the better’.” They stare at one another for a few seconds, Bernie biting her lip. “You could always…” She falters, and Serena’s mouth falls open a little. 

“Could I?” She asks herself out loud. Suddenly, the air in the room has become very thick, and she can’t quite think straight. 

“Only if you’re comfortable. It’s not necessary, there’s a few moves I could show you,” Bernie rambles as Serena pauses for a few moments, her mind whirring. Could she really? Her legs weren’t exactly her favourite part of her body. Would she feel too exposed? Without her trousers, she would be left in only her tank top and knickers. There would be less between them than ever. It crosses her mind that she doesn’t have all that much to hide. Bernie knows already how much she arouses her when she dances. She thinks of Bernie's routine, of how she drags her lips along her inner thighs, briefly brushes her crotch, presses her nose lightly against her cunt, and shudders. Without her trousers...

"Okay," she mumbles, avoiding Bernie's gaze and running her palms along the front of her currently clothed thighs. "Okay." 

She tries to fight the trembling in her fingers as she fumbles with her buttons, cursing herself for not wearing an easier pair. The fabric is stiff and her hands are sweaty as she tries to push the button out of its hole, to no avail. 

"I could...?" Bernie says softly, taking a step towards her. Serena stops, looks up at the woman she loves. She's nervous, yes. It's now normal that Serena see Bernie undressed; this is entirely new. But, she realises, no matter what happens, no matter how she is feeling, she trusts her. She knows the last thing that Bernie would ever do would be to make her uncomfortable or take advantage. And this was merely a practical suggestion. 

So she lets out a sigh, drops her shoulders, relaxes herself, and gestures for Bernie to help. 

Gentle doesn't quite do justice to the way Bernie touches her. It's... tender. She hooks a finger under one of Serena's belt loops, using this to lightly tug her forwards before lifting her hand to her top button. She hesitates for just a moment, before swiftly, carefully unfastening it, making sure that it is the button and only that which she touches. Serena almost feels herself disappointed at the lack of further contact, but instead her heart swells with love for her friend and she is suddenly overcome with how lucky she is to have her, to have someone like that in her life. And again comes that crushing fear of losing her, and with it the resolve to never reveal her feelings unless Bernie were to do so first. She just couldn't have that risk; Bernie meant too much. 

Bernie stands back, and Serena quickly pulls down her zip and removes the trousers, tossing them over on to the sofa. She takes a steadying breath, trying to look past the fact that she is here, with Bernie Wolfe, and that the both of them are pretty much stood in their underwear. As she turns back to Bernie, she catches her looking her up and down with such heat that it makes her mouth water. 

“Have another go. This time try and get a better grip with your legs.” 

Serena nods, again stepping towards the pole and grasping it tight in one hand, swinging around it a couple of times then lifting her weight up to wrap her legs around it. Bernie’s right and she manages to stay up a little longer this time, spinning around before dropping her feet back to the floor. 

“That was good,” Bernie enthuses with a grin. “Just when you bring yourself up, try to hook your legs round a little more. It’ll make it easier.” 

Serena tries again, swinging herself a little more confidently this time, and as she drops back to the floor she sees Bernie staring at her, her eyes lively and a smirk on her lips. 

“What?” Serena asks, raising an eyebrow. Bernie looks down, shaking her head. 

“Nothing,” she murmurs, but then she looks back up and Serena sees her wide smile and gives her a look that says she’s not accepting that for an answer. “You look really good up there,” she admits, taking a step towards her. “Serena Campbell, pole dancer.” She quirks an eyebrow. “I might quite fancy her.” Serena’s breath leaves her body as Bernie now crowds her space, one hand resting on the pole over her shoulder. Bernie looks positively ravenous, and Serena feels a gush of arousal as the other woman brushes her fingertips up and down her bare arm, her eyes dark and sinful. 

“Dance for me, Bernie.” 

Bernie wastes no time in slipping her hand into Serena’s, pulling her across to the chaise longue and giving her a light push to indicate her to sit down. Serena leans back, her hands spaced to the side of her and her back arched forwards slightly, sticking her chest out. She’s been here enough times now to know how Bernie likes her to be. Biting her lip, she lets out a groan as Bernie towers over her, twirling around, running her hands all over her body, leaning into her own touch. She tangles her fingers in her hair, her eyes never leaving Serena’s as she then brings her hands back down to her breasts, giving them a squeeze and whimpering. 

“Take it off, Bernie. Take it all off, now. I want to see all of you, darling.” 

Serena’s words come in a rush as she suddenly finds herself too desperate for teasing. Her hips are rolling in circles as she sits, and Bernie arches an eyebrow at her.

“Oh dear, Ms Campbell,” she tuts, taking a step backwards. “Where are your manners?” She turns around, bending over and pushing her ass out, then running her palms up the insides of her thighs as she straightens back up again. She allows her thumbs to brush the front of her shorts, her sex twitching at the contact, before turning around with a satisfied grin as Serena’s mouth hangs open, her back arching and breaths sharp with need. 

“Please, Bernie. You’re so—“ 

Her words are cut off as Bernie falls to her knees at her feet, her palms gently brushing up her calves. Their eyes meet, and Serena knows that Bernie is asking her permission to continue. She feels like telling her off for asking a stupid question, but she doesn’t know quite how she would manage to vocalise that sentiment without adding ‘take off the rest of my clothes and fuck me’. Instead, she just nods, fighting the urge to feel self conscious as Bernie gently tugs her legs apart, her palms coming up to smooth along her bare thighs. With only the skimpy fabric of her knickers between them, Serena feels more than a little exposed as Bernie spreads her thighs, her lips brushing her kneecap. But the way that Bernie looks at her makes it impossible to be uncomfortable with it. Her gaze is one entirely of adoration and lust. She makes Serena feel respected and cared for, always, as if Serena is her priority in everything she does.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Serena. God…” Bernie nips at the skin of Serena’s inner thigh as she makes her way upwards, and Serena’s breath hitches as she realises that Bernie is going to go about her routine as normal, despite the lack of barrier between them. Her cunt throbs and burns in anticipation, and she thanks her lucky stars that she wore dark underwear today because, at this point, she’s soaked and wouldn’t want Bernie to see a dark patch as she moves closer to her centre. Not that Bernie can’t tell how turned on she is anyway. Serena can smell her own arousal, so Bernie definitely would too. She groans, trying her best to keep her hips still as Bernie nears, her breaths coming in sharp pants, and she feels sweat beading on her forehead. Bernie is so close now, she can feel her hot breaths at the top of her thighs. She squeezes her eyes shut, prays that she makes it through this experience without making a fool of herself. 

She cries out as Bernie’s lips brush the front of her knickers. Was she always this sensitive? Her sex feels as though it were on fire, and she feels a fresh burst of wetness gushing between her folds. She swallows hard, concentrating on keeping her hips still as Bernie brushes her lips over her again, this time allowing her nose to poke in at her clit. She pants, whimpers, groans. She wants to tell Bernie to stop. She wants to tell Bernie to tear her underwear apart, to toss it over her shoulder and fuck her with her tongue until she’s begging for mercy. She could just imagine it, how Bernie’s mouth would feel as she sucked on her clit. God… 

Bernie is moving upwards again now, to Serena’s equal relief and disappointment. She turns around, lies back against her, moves her hand between her legs, allowing Serena to watch as she drags her fingertips along her sex through the tight fabric. Serena bites her lip, resting her chin on Bernie’s shoulder, nestling into the groove of her neck, moans as she writhes against her hand, her chest heaving. 

“Please, Bernie,” Serena whispers into her ear, her voice hoarse. “Please, let me see you.” She arches her back a little more, desperate for any friction. Bernie stands, turning around and smirking as she unclips her bra with one hand, tossing it aside with a flourish before dropping down her shorts and then she’s naked. Serena thinks she could never get used to this sight. Every night, she finds her breath taken away by the raw beauty of the woman before her. It makes her quite emotional, just how incredible the woman she loves is. She wonders if she’ll ever find anybody who even closely matches up to her, to her character, her beauty, her spirit. It’s unlikely. She’s absolutely head over heels for Berenice Wolfe. 

Bernie strides towards her carefully, before coming up to straddle her, placing a knee either side of her hips and moving her hands up to fist in Serena’s hair. All too eagerly, Serena fastens her mouth around a nipple, and Bernie moans and arches and cries out with the sensation, her hips jolting involuntarily against Serena’s, much to the other woman’s delight. She had come to know, by now, that this was a sure way to get Bernie to speed up, as the trauma medic seemed to lose her willpower the second Serena’s lips met her breast. Serena ruts her hips to match Bernie’s rhythm, sucking harder and Bernie wails, holding Serena’s head tight in place.

Then, as always, Bernie pulls herself away, her cheeks flushed, her hairline sweaty, and runs her hands over Serena’s clothed torso before standing back. 

“Lie down.”

It’s an order, and by God does Serena love it when Bernie uses that authoritative tone. She does as she’s told, turning around and lying back, gasping despite herself when Bernie appears above her, one knee placed expertly between her thighs.

But she’s not giving her what she wants just yet. No, instead she leans back on her calves, spreading her thighs and running a neatly manicured finger through her dripping folds, throwing her head back as she does so. 

“Look at me, Serena,” she breathes, dipping a finger inside herself. “I’m so wet. Fuck, you looked good on that pole.” 

Serena moans lewdly, arching her back and lifting up her hips. “Let me taste you.” 

Bernie bucks into her hand a couple more times, before moving forward and bringing her fingers up to Serena’s lips. She takes them in hungrily, whimpering in satisfaction as Bernie hovers over her. 

“You taste so good,” Serena murmurs. “Delicious. Divine.” 

Bernie chuckles lightly, her fingers leaving Serena’s mouth with a pop. Their hips are perfectly aligned, and already Serena is trying to grind herself down on Bernie’s thigh. Bernie holds herself up a few moments longer, smirking down at Serena as she writhes beneath her. 

"Tell me how you want me," she whispers, and Serena groans, lifting her hips up pointedly. 

"Like the other night," she begs, her back arching so that Bernie's breasts brush hers. She loves watching it, the way Bernie’s nipples stand that little bit taller as the soft cotton of her vest brushes them, and the lipstick stains she had left around them. It makes her sex pulse that little bit harder, makes the tremble in her knees just that little bit more violent as Bernie begins to move above her, twisting and writhing still in time with the music, but pointedly brushing the top of her thigh against Serena's cunt. 

And today Serena is burning. With only the thin lace of her underwear between them, Serena can feel _everything,_ and it's driving her wild. Bernie begins only brushing her lightly, but she needs more, she's desperate for it. She whimpers Bernie's name over and over, tells her how amazing she is, how beautiful. And Bernie can recognise it, knows by now what Serena is afraid to ask her, and moves just that little bit quicker, harder, and Serena is trembling, shaking, panting, the fire in the pit of her belly building and building, and she knows she's close. 

Then she notices that, without the fabric of her trousers between them, she can _feel_ Bernie's wetness against her leg, and God... God, that's hot, and it tips her over the edge, coming with a moan as Bernie buries her face in the crook of her neck, her lips brushing the sensitive skin there. She continues her movements until Serena's breathing begins to steady, before flopping down beside her, her arms, as always, draped around Serena's middle, moulding her body to hers as Serena recovers. 

As she begins to come round, Serena is again reminded about that niggling guilt in her mind, the thought that Bernie might perhaps not be _enjoying_ their dances as much as she is. She looks down at her thigh, sees the glistening of Bernie's arousal there and groans again, her head falling backwards. In response Bernie squeezes her a little tighter, her lips gently brushing her shoulder as she does so, and Serena thinks for a moment how selfless Bernie is in all that she does. She supposes it's an aftereffect of being in the army, of working in war zones, the 'never leave a man behind' spirit in her. It's probably one of the many reasons she has fallen in love with her. But as much as it is one of Bernie's finer qualities, Serena can't stand the idea that Bernie isn't getting as much out of this as she could be. 

She takes a deep breath. "Bernie?"

An incoherent noise comes from where Bernie's face is buried in Serena's neck.

"Bernie, are you sleeping?" 

Bernie lifts her head up a little then, though her movements are still slightly sluggish. "Absolutely not," she lies, biting back a yawn. Serena smiles fondly, rolling her eyes, before remembering her question and continuing. 

"Can I ask you something?" 

The other woman frowns at her, drawing small circles on her stomach with her thumb. "Fire away." 

Serena pauses for a few moments, thinking how she could possibly phrase what it is she wants to say. 

"Okay, so, you know whilst you're dancing and you... touch yourself?" 

Bernie definitely wakes up at that. She leans up on her elbow, so that she can see Serena's face. "Yeah?" 

She bites her lip, avoiding Bernie's gaze. "Have you ever... you know..." Bernie frowns at her. "... finished yourself? During a dance?" She curses herself for blushing. 

Bernie seems to take a moment to realise just what it is Serena is asking her, then another whilst she considers her answer. 

"A few times," she admits, her face relaxed and open. "Marcus and Alex both liked to... to watch. But never with a customer. I'm never really, um... _into it_ enough to do it then, even if I wanted to." She smiles. 

Serena nods slowly, her next words caught in her throat. She wanted to ask Bernie if she'd like to do it for her, but her words had played with Serena's insecurities. Bernie had said that she was never aroused enough to make herself come in front of a customer. Does Serena fall into that category? Is this Bernie's way of letting her down gently? But Serena could see with her own eyes that Bernie was turned on when she danced for her. That was undeniable, wasn't it? She bites her lip. 

"I, er, just wondered," she murmurs. "I wouldn't want you to feel... restricted, as though I was having all the fun." She frowns at herself, trying to think of a better way to phrase what she was saying. 

"I'm definitely having fun, don't worry about that," Bernie laughs, reaching out and patting down a stray hair sticking up on the top of Serena's head. She pauses. "Would you like me to do it, for you?" 

Serena shakes her head quickly, avoiding Bernie's gaze any way she could. "I couldn't ask you to do that," she stammers, her cheeks flushing scarlet. 

"You're not asking; I'm offering," Bernie replies seriously, and in a moment Serena turns to face her, her eyes wide, and sees that Bernie means exactly what she is saying. But it's still that selfless streak in her that's provoking it; she's doing this for Serena, and Serena doesn't want that. 

She feels the urge to hold her hand, but still manages to uphold her no touching rule. Instead, she gently drags the tip of her toes along Bernie's calf, watching the way her breath hitches and pupils dilate as she does so. 

"I don't want you to do this for me, Bernie," Serena says softly, her eyes never leaving Bernie's. The other woman blinks in slight surprise at being turned down, but Serena continues. "I want you to do this for yourself. Stop being so concerned with trying hard to please _me_ and do something for you. Whatever it is you do or want, I'll still be here." 

At her words, Bernie's face softens, her mouth opening a little and her eyes suddenly shiny. Her eyes bore into Serena's, searching for any dishonestly but finding only care and affection there. Serena watches as Bernie's eyes roam over her face, flitting down to her lips then back up again, and Serena thinks for a moment she is about to kiss her, opens her mouth slightly in invitation, her own eyes moving to Bernie's lips, but then she speaks again, her tone low and honest. 

"I really do love dancing for you, Serena. I wouldn't do it otherwise."

"I know," Serena nods, smiling. "But what I'm saying is, if you do this, don't let any idea of what it is _I_ want you to do influence your decision. Do it because _you_ want to do it. Am I making sense?"

Bernie purses her lips thoughtfully, but Serena can see in her eyes that she has decided, can see that playful spark returning, and she fights the urge to break into a grin. 

"I do want to do it," Bernie smirks, then lowers her lips to the shell of Serena's ear. "In fact, it's been killing me not to." 

Serena shuffles back into a sitting position as to get a better view as Bernie comes up onto her knees, waiting until she's comfortable to straddle her. She doesn't know quite how it's possible, but Serena finds her sex aching again and shifts in her seat as Bernie begins dancing, rolling her body against Serena's and tweaking her nipples. 

"Allow me," Serena murmurs, dipping her head forward and closing her lips around one, sucking and biting until Bernie is shaking and crying out, but this time she doesn't push her away as she begins trembling beneath her. Instead, she moves one hand between her legs, the other gripped tight on Serena's shoulder as she rocks her hips in a steady rhythm. 

"Fuck, Serena," Bernie pants, arching her back and pushing herself more into Serena's mouth. She lifts her finger to her clit, circles around it, cries out, her other hand gripping tighter on Serena's shoulder. It's taking all of Serena's restraint not to flip her onto her back and fuck her right there, to dip her tongue inside her, to feel her come against her mouth, and she moans at the thought. 

But on the other hand, this is too good. The sounds Bernie is making, how desperately she bucks into her hand, the salty perspiration she can now taste on her skin... She feels her cunt twitch, and fights the urge to touch herself too, her fists as ever tight at her sides. Then Bernie is pushing lightly at her shoulder, leaning back away from her. 

"God, Serena, I'm so close," Bernie whimpers, her voice hoarse and words fast with desperation as her hips rock faster against her hand. "Talk to me." 

Serena moans loudly, leaning back, taking in all of Bernie, trying to commit the sight to memory forever. She's always loved dirty talk, she thinks, but this is different. She isn't quite sure of where exactly the boundaries lie. But then Bernie’s hand is tightening on her shoulder, her face contorted with desperation, and she tries. 

"Let me see you, darling," she moans, her hips rocking as she talks. "Let me see you come. You are so fucking beautiful." She pauses, considering her next words as Bernie begins to whimper, her breathing shallow, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. "Don't hold back, darling. I want to hear you come. Oh, God... Could you tell how wet you make me? You're so hot, so sexy. Come for me, Bernie. I want to taste you after you've come on your fingers. Let me watch you." 

Just when Serena pauses, worried she's overstepped a mark, Bernie's hips begin bucking erratically as she gasps for breath, and then she is coming, her jaw falling open as she groans and whimpers, her chest and cheeks flushed. Serena's own sex is contracting in sympathy, and she thinks how she cannot wait until she is home, until she can replay this scene over and over as she makes herself come, her face buried in her pillow to muffle the desperate moans that she wouldn't be able to hold in. Despite the lack of any exertion on her part, she finds herself panting, and Bernie looks down at her hazily as her hips still their movements, her fringe stuck to her forehead with perspiration, and then sits back on her heels, her hand over her mouth. 

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she gasps, but Serena is far more preoccupied with how her fingers are still glistening from being inside her. "I think I got a little carried away there." 

"Don't," Serena says quickly, before Bernie can make herself feel guilty. "You were amazing. Just... let me taste you." She's shocked at how confident she is becoming, and it crosses her mind that maybe, one day, she could work up the courage to confess her feelings to her friend. But not yet. She can't quite find it in herself, yet. So for now she just takes all that she is offered, makes sure that Bernie knows how desirable she finds her, and bides her time well. 

Bernie's fingers taste like nothing she can imagine elsewhere. A delicious mix of salt and sweet, and oh so addictive. She thinks she tastes different, after coming around them, and allows herself to murmur this to Bernie, who gives her a bashful smile in return. It's funny, she ponders, how sex, or sexual acts, seem on the surface to be the most intimate things you can do with a person. To open yourself up, to let the other person make you weak like that, surely must be it, the highest level of trust, the closest bond. But it isn't, is it? This is just the start. Sex, for them, is only the tiniest reflection of what they are truly feeling, a bandage to cover what they are not yet ready to reveal, a healing process of sorts until they are both in a suitable state to move forwards. 

And as Serena is leaving the club that night, she feels they have taken a step. 

"I hope you know," Bernie begins carefully as they stand at the door, her eyes focused on picking an invisible piece of fluff from Serena's coat collar, her other arm wrapped around herself protectively against the cool night air. "I don't just do this for anyone. I never would. Even half of what we do... It's not my usual routine." 

Serena stares at her, at the blush in her cheeks and the dipping of her head, and wants to tell her everything, wants to kiss her, but she can't, not yet. But this is a moment of honesty, a milestone of sorts, so she fights the urge to respond with a flirty comment. "I know you don't. I know."

"I just wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea... to think I was... I don't know." She offers her half a smile. 

"Don't worry," Serena says, her voice softer now. "I know you don't. But even so, don't ever think that anything you do here, or anywhere else for that matter could affect how I see you. It's your life, your body. Never let anyone talk you down for that, never feel ashamed." She pauses, feeling emotion in the back of her throat but forcing herself to continue. "Because I mean it when I say that... there is no one in this world that I respect and admire more." 

Bernie looks her in the eye, then, a look of faint surprise and definite emotion on her features. Serena thinks she sees her bottom lip tremble slightly, but that could easily have been the lighting there. She gazes at her deeply, penetratingly, and Serena holds her gaze, telling her with her eyes that she means every word, and eventually Bernie looks away, nodding and wrapping her arms more tightly around herself. 

"Thank you," is all she can utter. And Serena understands. "I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Yes, see you tomorrow," Serena repeats gently, but makes no move yet, as Bernie too says still. They stand in silence for a few moments, both daring to feel the emotion sparking between them but fighting not to show it, until Bernie steps forward, placing a quick kiss on Serena's cheek. 

"See you tomorrow." And she turns to go back inside. 

"Goodnight," Serena calls after her. Then she walks home with a tear in her eye, but a new glimmer of hope in her heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed :)


	8. and can you give me everything, everything, everything, 'cos i can't give you anything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooo sorry this took forever! Uni has been insane and I've been so burnt out I actually cried tears of joy when I got in bed the other night I've been so sleep deprived :( but yeah I finally finished this! I've got a couple of weeks off now but wonderfully I have another essay to get started on so :/ This is my way to relax though so hopefully I'll get at least another two out in the next couple of weeks
> 
> Thank you all once again so so much for the amazing feedback, I'd have no doubt abandoned this without it so keep it coming! :)
> 
> Another reason this took so long is because I couldn't find the right song, so whilst If You Wait is the song for the chapter there is a link to another song in there too because I couldn't decide :P

_[Song for this chapter: If You Wait - London Grammar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dFypwRMvWfI) _

* * *

Serena thinks she might just have lost her mind. 

She is a rational, experienced, confident, fifty-two year-old woman. She knows life, knows what she wants, knows how to get it. 

Usually.

So why is it that one woman can reduce her to this ridiculous mess of feelings and torment?

Her intention, in originally attending the strip club, was to rid herself of all thoughts of Bernie. Back then, she had been infatuated, yes. She had been attracted to her, and this had caused a bit of confusion, not least due to the fact that she could not remember ever in her life feeling this way for another woman before. She had thought that this would solve her attraction, get it out of her system, prove to herself that what she was feeling was purely platonic admiration for her friend, that women really weren’t her flavour. 

In reality, the opposite has happened. 

Day in, day out, she finds herself gazing at the woman she loves from afar, always promising herself that _today will be the day that I ask her out_ , but somehow never quite getting there. It’s strange, the contrast between who they are in work and who they are in the club. In there Serena is bolder, more free in getting what she wants, in asking for it outright. They are hungry, ravenous, animalistic in how they consume one another, how they tease and provoke and let go. It is almost a frenzy, the way they move together. It’s desperate, it’s carnal. But that’s as far as it goes. The loosened control only extends as far as their sexual relationship, and always Serena remains tight-lipped, and always keeps her hand’s to herself.

On the flip side, in the broad light of day Serena can barely ask Bernie for a pen without having a mild heart attack. Every time she sees her, her world seems to spin that little bit faster. She makes her dizzy with desire. All Serena wants is to be able to touch her, to hold her in her arms. But she can’t, because _not now_. It doesn’t feel right. _Something_ isn’t right. 

She studies her carefully, often ending up with a mountain of paperwork for all the time she’s wasted watching her friend as she goes about her duties on the ward. And when she enters the office, though it pains her to do so, Serena always maintains eye contact, judges every blink, every twitch, desperately searching for some sign, some _confirmation_ that Bernie felt the same. She knew she was being ridiculous really. Her heart throbs always with the same message: _this is meant to be_. Maybe she’s just being soppy. Nothing’s meant to be, nothing can ever be entirely predictable. Even in the most certain of cases, there can always be an anomaly. That’s just the way of the world, she tells herself. So when she sees Bernie’s dilated pupils, the pink tint to her cheeks that only ever seems present when she’s around, the quickening of her breaths when she steps closer, she still can’t bring herself to take the risk. She knows she’s being cowardly, knows really that this isn’t just wishful thinking. But she just can’t do it. So she settles for behaving like a lovesick teenager instead.

She stares at her from across the ward, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip and her heart fluttering. Was there ever a more beautiful woman? She’s brilliant, captivating, breath-taking, brave, selfless, bold, bright, wonderful. She chuckles inwardly at herself, at how pathetic she is being. _Grow up, Campbell._ She clears her throat, looking back down to the head wound she was supposed to be examining. 

“Ms Campbell, could I have a word?” 

Bernie appears at the other side of the bed, making Serena jump slightly. She nods, informing her patient that she will be back in just a moment and snapping off her gloves. They move across to the nurses’ station, out of earshot. 

“I’m going to get going now. I’ve got that meeting with the developers - do you remember?” Serena nods, resting against the desk and trying her hardest to keep her eyes away from her friend’s lips, as was becoming more and more difficult these days. “Mr Evans in Bay Three needs a catheter changing and Ms Plunkett in the side room is booked in for an urgent abdominal ultrasound. Can you keep an eye?” 

“Roger that,” Serena replies with a smirk, standing up a little straighter in false salute to her friend. She loves the way Bernie’s eyes glitter when she makes reference to her military background. “I’ll get Fletch on the catheter right away.” 

Bernie grins at her in thanks. “Oh, and I’ll, er… see you tonight.” She winks as Serena’s stomach flips, her legs suddenly feeling very unsteady. Would she ever get used to this? Bernie makes to step away, but instead looks briefly over her shoulder before leaning forwards, putting her lips to Serena’s ear. “I’ve got something special for you.”

Serena lets out a deep breath, her eyelids fluttering. Damn that woman. Bernie pulls back with a Cheshire Cat’s grin as she fights against the images running through her head. Bernie in leather, Bernie in a short and lacy slip, Bernie in nothing but her stockings and heels… 

She clears her throat quickly as Bernie turns around, spotting Fletch across the ward. 

“Fletch! Catheter in Bay Three,” Bernie calls to him, before Serena can get chance. She takes another deep breath, attempting to refocus herself on her previous task. 

“Oh, and whilst you’re there Fletch,” she begins, trying desperately to keep her mind on her work and not the way in which Bernie is now watching her as she speaks. “Could you please fetch me a stripper k— suture kit from the s-supply room, please.” 

Bernie spins round as Fletch’s eyebrows shoot up and Serena’s face flushes scarlet. She gapes, stammering. "Suture— a suture kit please." 

Fletch's mouth turns up into a grin, and Serena looks over to Bernie in panic. This turns out to be a mistake, as all she can see on her friend's face is barely-concealed laugher, her eyes watering and her hand held over her mouth. And as soon as she sees it, as soon as their eyes meet, she feels the hysterics bubbling up inside her too. 

"Excuse me," she manages to choke out, biting the insides of her cheeks as she makes a dash for her office, Bernie following, just managing to close the door behind them before they burst into giggles, and Bernie's honk can be heard from the other side of the ward. 

::

The rest of the shift drags. Disregarding the fact she’s counting down the seconds until she returns to the strip club, she also finds that even on the days when they are not meeting after work, any time she spends without her colleague seems to pass infinitely slower than when they are together. She finds it quite terrifying, actually. It’s mind-boggling, the conflict between wanting to spend every waking second with her, but finding that when she does the time passes so quickly it’s almost disorientating. She loves her, she reminds herself. It’s been so long since she felt that that she’s forgotten quite how it can affect one’s perception of the world around them, of time. She wants to say that she’s never felt this about anyone before, the way she feels with Bernie, but she’s aware that her view might be warped slightly there. She remembers being head over heels for Edward, in the beginning, but can’t at all fathom it ever feeling like this. In all truthfulness, it’s driving her insane. But simultaneously it’s so delicious, so exhilarating that she never wants it to end, and she knows in her heart of hearts that it wont. 

She loves her. She’s going to tell her.

Hah.

She manages to laugh at herself, but it’s tinged with sadness. It breaks her heart that she can’t express how she feels to Bernie, that she seems to have this inner barrier holding her back from doing what she wants. It’s as though she’s paralysed mentally by the fear of losing her, however irrational that might be. Anger and frustration burn at her skin. Oh, how she wishes she could be different. This is the one thing that she has definitely never felt before. She has never in her life been so afraid of loving someone. Perhaps it is still the aftermath of such a vicious divorce, of being lied to and cheated on so much. Maybe she just can’t trust herself to love freely again, maybe this is her mind’s way of defending itself. Of course, that isn’t it. She knows that she is more than over Edward. It’s just something about Bernie Wolfe. She’s too precious to her, too fragile. One false move could break everything forever. She she cannot help but be so tentative, so careful. It does her head in that she can’t just _stop herself_.

The club is surprisingly busy tonight, busier than Serena has ever seen it. She looks around when she gets in, expecting to find Bernie waiting for her, but she isn’t there. Probably in with another client, she thinks, more bitterly than she is comfortable with. She gets herself and Bernie both a drink, as usual, and sits down. 

There’s a different dancer on the pole tonight than she has seen before. She watches her with faint interest, watches the way her long, dark hair swishes around as she twirls and gyrates. In the back of her mind, it crosses her thoughts that this woman is perhaps the polar opposite of Bernie. Dark-haired and blue-eyed, short-legged and full-figured. She eyes her carefully, that age-old question in her mind: is she attracted to women, or purely Bernie Wolfe? She knows it doesn’t matter really. She’s in love with Bernie, and that’s that. But she can’t help but sometimes wonder. 

“Campbell!”

She turns around sharply to see Bernie leant against the doorway to the private rooms behind her, and her mouth falls open at the sight. The camouflage bodysuit from the first night is back, along with her usual dark stockings and killer heels, but this time it is half covered by a navy military jacket and, more importantly and more to Serena’s delight, a major’s military cap. Bernie smirks at her as she stares. 

“I found my hat,” she tells her, her eyes sparkling as Serena stands, a little eagerly, picking up both of their drinks as she does. “One of the other girls nicked it.” 

Serena chuckles airily, trying to hide just how breathless she has become just at the sight of Bernie in her current attire. She looks positively ravishable, and a groan rumbles in the back of her throat with anticipation of what is to come, her knees wobbling as she begins to follow her up the stairs. 

She feels sadness again, then, as she watches the perfect sway of Bernie’s behind in front of her. She wishes she just had the courage to take that step, that leap, to break the barrier that existed between them. It crosses her mind that she has never wanted anything so much in all her life. She knows that’s wrong, but the level of desperation, of despair that she is feeling, is beginning to crush her, and she knows that something has to give soon. 

As they reach the top of the stairs and turn towards their corridor, Serena thinks about what it is she wants. Right now, she wants Bernie to touch her, she wants to be close to her and feel her body against her. She doesn’t want to drink or to talk. What she’s feeling is purely carnal urge, she’s sure. And as they reach the curtain to their room, she thinks that maybe that is a good place to start. Putting it frankly, it’s what she’s paying for. So to take that extra little bit of control, to ask a little more for what she wants, surely wouldn’t be rocking the boat too much? It would be a start, she thinks. Before, it has always been Bernie that has taken things further than they needed to go. Maybe it was time Serena did take the reigns a little, as far as she could bring herself to. Maybe it would give both of them that extra little push...

They get inside, and Bernie makes her way towards the table as usual, no doubt expecting that they will, as always, have a drink first. Serena downs her wine, then clears her throat. 

“No,” she chokes out, just as Bernie is about to sit. She turns around with a small frown. Serena wills herself not to back down. “Dance now?”

It comes out more feeble and uncertain than she hoped for, and she curses herself inwardly, holding her breath as she watches Bernie scrutinising her. Would she refuse? Serena’s heart hammers painfully, and she lets out a small sigh of relief as Bernie’s features soften into a smile and she holds out a hand for Serena to lead the way to the other side of the room. 

Serena walks over on shaky legs, holding out Bernie’s wine glass to her before going and sitting down. She watches as Bernie takes a few large gulps, adjusting her jacket and the position of her cap briefly before strutting over. Serena takes a deep breath as she allows her eyes to roam all over her, to drink her in, and she lies back slightly, her legs spread wide for Bernie to settle between, but she shakes her head. 

“Not yet,” she teases, her eyes glittering wickedly. “I’m trying out something new today.” 

Serena raises an eyebrow, half excited, half frustrated. “And what might that be?” 

Bernie grins, grabbing onto the pole in the middle of the room with one hand and doing a couple of spins before leaning against it, her back arched. “Making you wait as long as I decide,” she answers simply.

Serena sucks in a sharp breath, her clit twitching and her breasts aching for Bernie’s touch. She bites her lip, her eyes hazy with lust as Bernie continues, twirling and grinding herself against the pole. Her throat clenches with the urge to just shout, to order her to come over here right this instant and touch her, but instead she just watches, moans, ruts her hips, her limbs shaking with need. 

Eventually, Bernie takes a few steps towards her, her hips swinging deliciously in time with the strong beats of the background [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aF4FcTcWcDE). She stops, leaning forward to give Serena just the slightest glimpse down the low neckline of her bodysuit, before straightening back up, twirling around, swaggering away from her again, letting Serena watch as her ass sways from side to side. And she stops, bends over, runs a hand all the way up from the back of her calf to her ass and squeezing roughly, and Serena groans, as always imagining how Bernie’s skin would feel beneath her fingertips.

Then Bernie spins around again, this time taking bigger strides towards her, but rather than perching on her lap or straddling her as she usually would, she instead climbs onto the chaise longue beside her, moving around so that it is Serena between her thighs as she kneels behind her.

A low moan rumbles in the back of Serena’s throat as Bernie’s fingers run gently over her back, her muscles twitching beneath her touch, and she shivers as she feel’s Bernie’s breath on the back of her neck, resisting the urge to bring a hand to her own breast. 

“God, Bernie,” she groans as Bernie’s fingertips begin kneading her shoulders, slowly working out all the knots there, before moving down her back. Serena arches into her touch, tilting her neck and allowing Bernie to brush her lips along the length of it, her breaths hot in her eat and making her whole body tingle. 

“Relax, Serena. I’ve got you,” she murmurs. Serena wonders if that could be possible, given all that she is working so hard to conceal from her friend. The tension in her shoulders isn’t all to do with work, as Bernie no doubt assumes. In fact, work is relatively stress-free at the moment. Things are going well with the new trauma unit, and the ward seems to be working harmoniously for the first time in years. But this worry she’s carrying around with her, all day, every day - that’s what is really making her lose sleep. 

She takes a deep breath, tries to allow herself to lean back, to lose herself in the moments allow all the tension to drain away. Her sex is pulsing agonisingly between her thighs, but she tries her best to ignore it, instead focusing on the sensation of Bernie’s deft fingertips working on her through her clothes. 

“Mmm… Where did you learn to do this?” She asks breathily, grunting as Bernie works out a particularly difficult knot. She feels Bernie smiling against her ear before she replies. 

“I did a stint in Thailand whilst I was training. Became friends with a girl who was a massage therapist. Just picked it up really. She was _very_ good with her hands.” Serena sucks in a breath as Bernie works her shoulders with a little more pressure, and to her surprise she can feel that some of the tension she had been holding has drained away. That doesn’t stop the completely irrational pang on jealousy in her stomach, though.

“Friends?” 

Bernie laughs quietly, her hands tightening and giving Serena a fond squeeze. “Yes, friends,” she tells, moving her hands down and along Serena’s sides. “I was twelve weeks pregnant at the time.” 

Serena nods, shivering as Bernie’s fingertips brush her waist, then whimpering in protest as they leave her entirely. Bernie shuffles around again until she is straddling her, still clad in her jacket and hat, her body rolling against Serena’s.

“Are you going to tell me what you’d like me to remove first?” She asks teasingly, a smirk on her lips. Serena groans, her eyes roaming up and down her body as she leans back on her lap. 

“Whatever it is,” she breathes, her back arching in encouragement for Bernie to continue moving against her. “Keep the hat.” 

Bernie grins. “You like it?” 

“Just a bit,” Serena jokes. Bernie arches an eyebrow. “I would happily introduce them as new trauma uniform if it was in the least bit practical. That’s how much I like it.” She pauses. “Though I don’t think it would look quite as good on anyone else as it does you.” 

She notices a faint blush in Bernie’s cheeks, and her stomach feels warm and fuzzy with adoration. Bernie leans forwards, whispers a ‘thank you’ in Serena’s ear that makes her head spin before leaning back and standing off Serena, just allowing their hips to brush before she does so and causing Serena to buck involuntarily. 

“Eager,” she comments, turning around, her hands moving to the lapels of her jacket. “I thought I’d told you I was making you wait tonight?” 

Serena groans, her eyelids fluttering as Bernie smooths her palms down the breast of her jacket, biting her lip and tilting her head back just enough to expose her neck without the hat falling off. She turns her back to Serena, lifting the jacket’s hem a little to expose her waist before allowing it to fall back down again, gyrating slowly as she does. Serena whimpers, shifting in her seat, her arousal close to unbearable. She thinks about touching herself, about stuffing her hand down her slacks and fucking herself until she gushed all over herself whilst Bernie watched. She groans again. 

Bernie turns back around at the sound, taking in Serena’s flushed cheeks and dark, lustrous eyes and swallowing thickly, allowing her eyes to slowly, pointedly look the other woman up and down, pausing at her lips, her breasts, her crotch, and making Serena’s eyelids flutter as the whimpered Bernie’s name. 

She takes a long stride forward, tugging her jacket so that it hangs from her shoulders, revealing the smooth skin there, and doing another twirl before allowing it to slip right down and off, leaving her just in her bodysuit and stockings. She tosses the jacket across to the other side of the room, before turning back to focus her attentions on Serena. 

Her skin is prickled with goosebumps of anticipation as she kneels to the floor in front of her friend, knowing that she will now be able to see the stiff peaks of her nipples through the green fabric and the telling damp patch between her legs. She remembers when Serena had first visited the club, and the few times after that, when she had been so self conscious about or even tried to hide how wet dancing for Serena made her, and smiles to herself as she now opens her legs brazenly, arching her back and running two fingers over herself, relishing the noises her actions draw from Serena, and feeling some hope that they are moving in the right direction. 

Serena struggles to hold her tongue as she watches, her mouth watering and her hips rocking slowly. She wants to tell her to take off her bodysuit and fuck herself right there whilst she watches, but she can’t say that. For starters, Bernie seems intent on keeping to her own pace tonight. Asking her to do such a thing would without a doubt be a step too far. So she simply watches as Bernie writhes before her, bucking her hips into her hand, arching her back, squeezing her breasts. Serena can’t seem to tear her eyes away from the wet back on the crotch of Bernie’s bodysuit, can’t stop herself from licking her lips, and Bernie seems to notices this, spreads her legs wider, ruts harder against her hand.

And then she slowly runs a single finger along the edge of the fabric, in the groove where her thigh meets her pelvis, dipping her finger beneath, humming as she feels her own sweat-sticky skin, Serena watches in awe, her head swimming, her cunt dripping, her eyes watering. Then Bernie briefly dips a finger into herself, her whole face going slack and her mouth falling open as she does so, before bringing it up to her mouth and licking it clean. 

“Fuck, Bernie.”

She flashes a wicked grin up at her, rocking onto her knees and crawling forward, nudging Serena’s thighs apart, raking her nails along them. Serena hisses at the sensation, her legs falling apart wider for Bernie to settle between. She drags her lips all the way up the insides of her thighs, stopping every now and then to nip at the skin through her trousers, loving the little whimpers she elicited. And when she reaches the apex of Serena’s thighs, she presses her mouth against the front of her trousers more insistently than ever before, dipping her tongue out, desperate to get even the slightest taste through the fabric. Serena feels this and moans, arching into her, squeezing her hands in tight fists to stop herself from knocking off the hat, burying her fingers in Bernie’s hair and bucking against her mouth until she came screaming over the edge. Instead she just whimpers how good she feels, how beautiful and how sexy. Tells her just a fraction of the truth. 

Then Bernie moves up her chest, brushing Serena’s nipples over her blouse, pressing herself flush against her and grinding as Serena moves her hips in matching rhythm. She sees Bernie grinning at her desperation and moans. 

“You’re awfully clothed, Major,” she comments breathily, to Bernie’s amusement. 

“Is that a request, Ms Campbell?” 

“I mean, obviously you’re the one… in charge, here.” She bites her lip against all the fantasies of Bernie in full battle fatigues, controlling her, commanding her, ordering her to fuck her harder, or to kneel in front of her and drink up all her juices until she came in her mouth. _Oh God_. 

Bernie’s grin widens, and she nods. She watches Serena’s face as she gently pulls her arms out of the straps, exposing her breasts, just inches from Serena’s lips. Serena is hungry, greedy, and she knows the drill. She leans forward, capturing one in her mouth, feeling it grow even harder under her tongue as Bernie writhes and trembles, one hand knotting in her hair and arching herself against her mouth. 

“Shit, Serena. You’re good at that.”

Serena smirks in satisfaction as she moves to the other nipple, her sex clenching and her hips rutting harder against Bernie’s. She feels herself working up to a frenzy, her desperation agonising, and squeezes her hands tighter at her sides. 

“Oh God, Bernie,” she moans loudly as she looks down to see the other woman is touching herself as she devours her. Bernie moans too, rubbing herself over her bodysuit, her cheeks flushed and her eyes dark as night. 

“Fuck, Serena, I couldn’t wait.” The words tumble out at a pace, and it crosses Serena’s mind that her friend might just be losing her control. The great Major Bernie Wolfe, the master of professionalism, undone right in front of her. The thought that this might all be because of her makes her want to cry, it arouses her so much. God… She doesn’t think she’s ever been this turned on in her entire life. She bites down harder on one of Bernie’s nipples, causing her to cry out. 

“Don’t wait, then,” she murmurs, making sure that Bernie can hear the licking and sucking noises she’s making as well as her hums of satisfaction. “Fuck yourself, right now. Do it for me.” 

Bernie doesn’t need telling twice. She gasps, bucking against her hand, managing to pause just long enough to hop off of Serena and push the bodysuit down her hips before straddling her again, pressing her lips to her breast, her other hand between her legs, and she begins bouncing up and down roughly, fucking herself on her own fingers, crying out Serena’s name. 

Serena thinks this is perhaps the hottest thing she’s ever seen in her life. She leans back, watches her with awe, watches as Bernie’s fingers disappear in and out of herself. Her own clit is pulsing violently, and she knows it would take only a few strokes to get herself off. And Bernie is so far away, her eyes closed as she ruts and writhes… Surely she wouldn’t notice? 

Bernie makes a noise like a strangled moan, rutting down a little heavier so that the back of her hand brushes briefly against Serena’s clothed sex, and she can’t hold back anymore. Hastily, she lifts one hand up to her trouser button, quickly opening it and pushing down her zipper just enough that she can thrust her hand straight into her knickers. 

“Fuck.”

She cries out as she feels she is already pulsing, dripping wet and more sensitive than she has ever felt. Her fingers set up a fast pace. She can’t even bring herself to apply any pressure; her cunt is too sensitive for that. Every faint brush feels like electric and her hips are out of control as she ruts against her hand, her breaths coming out short and throaty and her walls clenching. 

And then she looks up, and sees Bernie, her eyes hazy, her cheeks rouged and her hair clinging to her face with perspiration, the hat now sitting slightly skewed on her head, staring down open mouthed at where her hand is now half-concealed down her trousers.

“Oh my God, Serena,” Bernie groans, her eyes never leaving Serena’s crotch as she continues to fuck herself in her lap, crying out with each rut of her hips. “Fucking hell… You’re so… Fuck yourself harder. Do it for me.” 

Serena feels herself gush at the words, doesn’t know if she could possibly push herself any further without it being painful, but frankly Bernie could ask her to jump off a cliff right now and she’d do it. She pushes her hand a little further into her pants, pushing two fingers straight inside herself as she continues to brush her clit with her thumb. 

“Oh fuck… Bernie. Oh _God_.” She moans loudly, arching her back as she clenches around her fingers, coming harder and faster than she has ever come before. She feels a gush of wetness around her fingers and groans, knowing that she is going to have to walk home like this, soaking wet with her own juices, but it feels too good to care. 

Bernie is frantic now, her hips bucking faster than ever. She’s panting, whimpering, keening, her whole body trembling. 

“Let me taste you,” she orders. 

Serena hesitates, her hand still down her trousers. Would this count as touching? She realises she’s being ridiculous; Bernie is asking her for this. She lifts her hand and Bernie grabs it roughly by the wrist, bringing her fingers to her lips and taking them full in her mouth.

“Oh… Fuck.” 

Serena doesn’t know how she’s turned on again, but she feels her clit twitching as Bernie moans and murmurs how good she tastes, how delicious. And the feeling of her lips, her tongue around her digits… 

“Shit, Serena. I’m coming. I’m—“ She gasps sharply, one hand coming to rest of Serena’s shoulder and squeezing hard as she stills completely, her eyes closed and her chest heaving. Serena watches in awe and wonder, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and the goosebumps on her skin. She looks utterly, utterly beautiful, her lips swollen red from biting them, and Serena feels the tug, feels that draw towards her, and can’t help but lean into it, her eyes on her friend’s mouth, so inviting… 

She sees Bernie’s eyelids flutter open as she is just centimetres away from her lips, her own mouth hanging open slightly. Bernie looks absolutely ravaged, her eyelids heavy and her gaze hazy, and she blinks at Serena in slight confusion at how close she is. Serena’s gaze returns to her lips, her heart stopping in her chest. She is so _close_. She would only have to lean forward just a fraction to press their lips together. 

She looks back up to Bernie’s eyes and sees her gazing at her still with confusion, but now there’s something else there too. Hunger, and lust. She looks irresistible, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as Serena hovers, willing herself to make the move, to close the gap…

But she can’t do it.

She’s a _coward_. 

She leans back, frustrated with herself, blinking hard and quickly fastening up her trousers. 

“Sorry about that,” she mutters quickly, looking anywhere but Bernie. She can feel emotion bubbling in the back of her throat, and wants desperately to leave, but Bernie doesn’t quite seem to get it. 

“Don’t be sorry at all, I’m… I…” She takes a deep breath, finally pushing off her hat and running a hand through her sweat-matted hair. “Could we lie down a minute?” 

All Serena can do is nod, toeing off her shoes before shuffling to lie back on the chaise longue. Bernie follows, not bothering to redress, nestling in the crook of Serena’s arm and tugging it around her, laying her head on her chest. 

They lie in silence, both listening to the sound of the [stereo](https://youtu.be/PSoOFn3wQV4) and one another’s unsteady breaths, both recovering from what has just happened. Serena doesn’t know what to think any more. The only think she can think right now, in this moment, is that she hates herself. She loves this woman, but she is too much of a coward to say anything about it. Bernie deserves love, deserves all the love in the world. Why can’t Serena give it to her? She swallows thickly, willing herself to think of anything else but the frustrated emotion building in the back of her throat and behind her eyes. 

“I can hear your heart beating,” Bernie murmurs softly, pressing herself a little tighter against Serena’s chest as if to get a better listen. Serena feels tears building behind her eyes then, and squeezes them shut. _This woman is too good for me_ , she thinks sadly, biting the insides of her cheeks. She feels so useless, so weak. Despite her best efforts, her shoulders tremble slightly with silent sobs, and she squeezes her eyes tighter. 

“Serena?” 

She feels Bernie sit up, feels her eyes on her face, does her best to pretend she’s sleeping. She would rather that, than Bernie see her cry. Bernie hesitates, watching her for a moment, before moving her hand to link it with Serena’s and giving it a squeeze, leaning down and placing a gently, heartfelt kiss on her friend’s forehead. Serena trembles again, fighting against a sob, and she feels Bernie settle back down in her arms, curling herself tight and protectively around Serena’s body as she pretended to sleep. She thinks she hears Bernie murmur something, but she can’t quite make it out. Instead she focuses on breathing steadily, on composing herself, on not allowing any tears to spill, because she doesn’t think that she could possibly handle the shame. 

“Bernie!” 

A gruff voice sounds from behind the curtain, causing them both to jump. Serena isn’t sure quite how long they’ve been there, or if she actually ended up falling asleep for real. Bernie sits up quickly, rubbing her eyes. 

“Yes?”

“This room’s booked in ten minutes.”

“Damn,” Bernie mutters, giving Serena’s shoulder a shake as she calls that they’ll be right out. Serena opens her eyes slowly, pretends she was fast asleep. 

“You dropped off,” Bernie tells her softly, with a fond smile, and Serena’s throat constricts again. “We’ve got to go now; someone else needs this room. We must have been here ages!” She hops off the chaise longue, bending down to pick up her bodysuit and quickly redressing. Serena takes a moment before sitting up, rubbing some sleep from the corners of her eyes. 

“Sorry for… for dozing off,” she says feebly, stretching. Bernie flashes her a grin. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she replies, running her hands through her hair and patting it down a little. “You’re cute when you’re asleep.” She winks. Serena’s heart aches. 

“Does that mean I’m not cute normally?” She manages to retort, trying desperately to regain some of her fiery self. Bernie laughs heartily. 

“Absolutely not,” she smiles at her, her eyes soft. Serena meets her gaze for a few moments, before looking away, slipping her shoes back on. 

“I didn’t realise it was this late. I really should be getting back.” She stands hastily, going to retrieve her coat from beside the door. 

“Of course, of course.” Bernie follows her, picking up their glasses from the table on her way. Serena fumbles around in her pockets, pulls out her fee. 

“No,” Bernie holds her hands up, shaking her head.

“I insist.”

“Serena, you don’t need to pay me for this.” Bernie drags the words out, as if trying to make them clearer to Serena. 

“Then what is…?” She trails off, realising what her next question would be. _Then what is this?_ They stare at each other, both knowing the question, and neither quite knowing how to answer it. 

Eventually Bernie sighs, plucking the note out of Serena’s hand. “Fine. But I’m not accepting it next time,” she huffs, putting it in her purse. Serena feels a little lighter, somehow, that she’s paid, but still she feels like a failure. She allows Bernie to walk her to the door, as usual, keeping her distance as they walk. They get outside, and Bernie turns to face her with a warm smile.

“I won’t see you now, ’til Sunday,” she tells, sticking her bottom lip out slightly. Serena frowns.

“Are you not in work?” 

“Nope,” she shakes her head, wrapping her arms around herself against the chill. “I’ve got some annual leave to use up. Hanssen insisted.”

“How will I cope without you?” Serena jokes half heartily, and Bernie grins. 

“Yes, alright. Try not to have too much fun.”

“It’ll be difficult, but I’ll do my best.” 

The pause for a moment, smiling at one another, as usual neither quite wanting to break away.

“Goodnight.” 

Bernie steps forward, as usual presses a soft kiss to Serena’s cheek.

“Night.”

Bernie goes back inside, shivering with the cold, and Serena stands for a few moments, collecting herself. In all truthfulness, she’s _embarrassed_. She’s annoyed with herself, both for being unable to show her feelings to Bernie but also for getting into such a state about it. She runs a hand over her face tiredly, huffing. 

_I will be better_ , she vows.

She looks behind her, at the now closed door to the club. This has gone on too long, she thinks. _I will be better_. Even if it kills her, even if it takes weeks, she will build up the courage. She _has_ to build up the courage.

Because it’s either that, or game over.

She can’t keep going on like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This escalated more than I wanted it to for this chapter but I'm gonna pretend it was the plan and roll ahead with it :D
> 
> Let me know if you enjoyed! xx


	9. why is everything so confusing, maybe i'm just out of my mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is SO BIG I'm so sorry ;)
> 
> As ever, thank you so so much for all your wonderful comments. I doubt I'd still be writing without them <3
> 
> I uploaded this from mobile so apologies for any typos/formatting errors
> 
> Enjoy! <3

_[Song for this chapter: I'm With You - Avril Lavigne](https://youtu.be/dGR65RWwzg8) _

* * *

As Bernie ascends the stairs back up to the club, for the first time her shoulders feel heavy. She coughs, blinks hard, forces herself to straighten up. _Chest out, shoulders back, eyes forward_. Though even with her old commander’s voice in her head telling her to get a grip of herself, it’s hard, and she decides she needs to take a break before going back out into the main club area.

Luckily for Bernie, as the club is so busy tonight, the dressing room is almost empty, but for one girl replacing a false nail. She offers Bernie a warm smile as she enters, jokingly saluting as she sees her hat and jacket. Bernie manages a chuckle, giving her a fond squeeze on the shoulder before moving over to the other side of the room, picking up a bottle of water from the side as she goes.

With a heavy sigh, she finds herself a little perch in the corner, out of sight of the rest of the room. She screws the cap off, taking a couple of sips, careful not to make herself too bloated for when she gets back to dance later, and allowing herself to just _feel_ for a moment. Her feet tap as she hugs her knees to her chest, resting her cheek atop them and closing her eyes.

_What am I doing?_

She squeezes her eyes closed tighter as her mind buzzes, her throat tight. _What am I doing?_ She braces herself against the memory, the thought of what had happened between them less than an hour before. It had been going so well, she was sure, but then Serena had gone quiet, had laid back with her eyes closed and her face in forced blankness. Bernie knew that she was awake, could tell by the irregular pace of her breaths, but Serena seemed intent on proving her otherwise. And she just… had a lapse, she’d like to say. She saw Serena’s actions as something they weren’t, got the wrong hint, the wrong idea.

And whispered those three forbidden words over her love’s heart.

She knew that Serena had heard, could tell by the way her breath hitched, her muscles tensed, but then… nothing. She doesn’t know how long she laid there, waiting for a response, fighting the urge to jump up and _run, run, run_ , or at the very least to put some clothes on, to try and lessen the crushing vulnerability she was feeling; but she’s certain that she never fell asleep. How could she, when her heart was being torn to pieces? No, all she could do was lie there, as though nothing had happened, as though it meant absolutely nothing to her. The opposite was true, but she knew that dwelling on that would get her nowhere, so spent the rest of her time laid there building her walls back up, steeling herself for the act she would have to put on. And she thinks she managed it well. There didn't seem to be awkwardness between them as Serena left.

But now she has gone, and Bernie can allow her guard to drop just a little. She doesn't know if her heart can take it, if she can keep on powering through like this. But the alternative is unbearable to her. She doesn't think she could cope without Serena, not now. And she enjoys their little sessions too much, even just looking at it as a dancer-customer relationship, to stop it just on the account of her getting in a little too deep with her feelings. She's a soldier, she reminds herself. She's fierce, she's tough, she's strong of mind. She can be logical about this, she vows, taking a shaky breath and nodding to herself. She can detach.

So she takes a final sip of water, takes a deep breath, checks herself in one of the mirrors, and gets back to work.

::

 _I will be better_.

Serena is determined that she _will_ build up the courage to tell Bernie how she feels. She just needs to work herself up to it, however long that might take.

She decides to start simple.

“Your hair’s nice like that, by the way.”

Bernie looks up at her with such a look of surprise that it makes her heart twinge a little, one hand lifting to feel the clip holding her hair up at the back of her head.

“Thanks,” she smiles eventually, and it really does meet her eyes. They light up and sparkle, and Serena thinks she could get addicted to this. It's progress, she thinks, forcing herself to say these little thoughts out loud. They might not mean much, but it's a baby step - a leg up, as it were. A place to build up from.

::

“That was brilliant.”

They’re in the scrub room after finishing a particularly testing trauma laparotomy. It has been touch and go; the patient had very nearly bled out. But Bernie was determined, fierce in her battle to locate the bleed, and she had stitched it with such finesse, never even slightly losing her calm, and Serena had to shake herself several times from simply gazing at her in wonder, spellbound as she watched her work.

Bernie flashes her a quick smile. “I wouldn't quite go that far.”

Serena tuts at her. “I mean it. You really are an excellent surgeon.”

Bernie finishes drying her hands, tossing the paper towel in the bin before folding her arms with a smirk, narrowing her eyes at Serena in playful suspicion. “What are you after?”

Serena shakes her head quickly, drying her own hands. “Nothing. I'm simply making a comment.”

“Yeah,” Bernie says slowly, arching an eyebrow in a way that made Serena blush a little. “I believe you.”

“Seriously!” Serena argues. She pauses, the corners of her mouth curling upwards. “Though, if you're offering, you could get the coffees in. I left my purse at home.”

“I don't recall offering,” Bernie teases, her eyes sparkling. Serena holds her gaze for a few moments, before the other woman breaks into a grin, giving her a fond shove on the shoulder as she makes her way out onto the ward. “I knew you were up to something. Black, no sugar, right?”

“I wasn't!” Serena insists, holding her hands up. “And yes. Extra shot, please,” she calls after her. Bernie mutters something about taking liberties in response, and Serena can't help but grin at her. She loves this, the gentle flirtation between them at work. It's different from the way they flirt whilst they are in the club, more innocent and less sexualised. There is no charge to it, not usually. It's just… nice. It runs deeper than what they have there, and it strikes Serena that this is _real_. In the club, despite how intimate their acts are, it is possible to conceal what is going on between them, to disguise their connection as lust or passion, and often they do. It _feels_ real, the relationship they have there, but in reality it does not even come close to the intimacy they have in their everyday lives, when they are less conscious of themselves and their guards are more relaxed. It just feels so… natural. They are so in sync, so effortlessly at one with one another that it feels as though they have known each other their whole lives. And Serena feels a little bubble of emotion at the back of her throat as she hopes that she knows her for the rest of it.

::

A couple of weeks pass, and Serena feels ready to up her game a little.

She remembers mistakenly calling her friend ‘darling’ on a couple of occasions, and Bernie has seemed not to mind - in fact, she had seemed to quite enjoy the term of endearment. So Serena tries dropping it into conversation a little more often.

_“Do you mind passing me that stapler, darling?”_

_“Would you like a coffee, darling?”_

_“Darling, where have last week’s time sheets gone?”_

At first, she is met by looks of bewilderment, confusion, on the first occasion a hint of amusement. But then it seems to register with Bernie that these are not an accidental slip of the tongue, and she begins saying it back.

“Darling, I’ve got a board meeting now but can we go over the staff training schedules later? I'd like to have them all ready to go by the end of the week.”

Bernie smirks up at her, her eyes alive with flirtation. “No problem. I’ll clear my schedule, _darling_.” She says it with slight jest at first, seemingly amused by Serena’s new turn of phrase, but soon it becomes part of their everyday speech, and they say it without even realising.

“Would you like to suture, darling?”

The sudden raising of almost everyone's eyebrows in the room alert Serena with a jolt to what she has just said. She looks at Bernie like a deer in headlights, and though she can't see her mouth, Bernie’s eyes are glistening with laughter.

“How about we take a side each, _darling?_ ” She says it exaggeratedly, jokingly, in a way that would suggest to those around them that she was mocking her for a supposed slip of the tongue. Serena nods, breathing a short sigh of relief and returning to the task at hand, hoping dearly that that had been enough to stop the rumour mill from rearing it’s ugly head.

::

Another couple of weeks pass, and Serena is beginning to feel more comfortable expressing her feelings to Bernie. Nothing even remotely close to confessing her love to her, but she feels like she is making progress. She tells her when Jason is being a pain, when Elinor has upset her, even confides in her when she is having a particularly difficult day facing a patient who is just that little bit too similar to her mother and is struggling to keep her professional distance. And she notices that Bernie _listens_ , cares genuinely about what is bothering her and would do anything to help. She buys her pastries when she’s stressed, offers to take over with the patient she’s struggling with, even places a comforting arm around Serena’s shoulder when she’s upset. Serena tenses up automatically at her touch, but she takes a deep breath, forces herself to relax and allows herself to lean into her a bit, rather than fighting every instinct to get closer to her as she normally would. She thinks about how safe she feels in Bernie’s arms, wonders if she’s ever felt anything close to it in her life, or if she ever will again, and leans in a little closer.

Always, _always_ , closer.

::

Before they know it, it's a matter of days before the grand opening of their extended trauma bay. Everything has gone remarkably smoothly in the set up, and both feel on cloud nine as they tap away at their computers, finalising the last arrangements, confirming press releases. Normally, all this paperwork and bureaucracy would make Bernie’s skin crawl, but the act of working with something so closely with Serena, of creating something that meant so much to both of them, made it all oddly enjoyable. She finds herself gazing at the other woman across the desk, and quickly looks away before Serena can notice.

Drumming her fingers on the edge of the desk, she casts her mind back to the past few weeks, her brow furrowing as she thinks about how their relationship has progressed. She had been defeated, been ready to accept their friendship for what it was: a friendship, albeit with some rather unconventional perks. But since then, Serena has seemed different, somehow. They’ve grown closer, Bernie feels, closer than she thinks she has ever been with anyone outside of a romantic relationship. And Serena’s attitude towards her seems to have changed too. She calls her pet names, tells her what's on her mind, seems to always be by her side in everything they do. But why? Serena had heard her confession, had heard her lay her feelings bare to her, and simply ignored it. So surely all of this was pure coincidence?

“Working tonight, darling?” Serena’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts, and she fights to keep a confused frown from her features.

“As always,” she responds, pretending to click at something on her computer. She catches Serena staring, and offers her a small smile. “Will you be joining?”

“As always,” Serena repeats, beaming at her. Bernie tries not to break into a grin herself; she never could resist that smile. She meets her eyes, considering her for a moment, thinking about the way Serena is with her at the club. She can’t quite put a word to it. Serena is… different. But it's strange, she thinks; Serena is both closer and more distant to her, when they're there. In terms of their physical closeness, well… Bernie finds it ludicrous to think so, but she’d put it up there at one of the best sexual relationships she’s ever had. Even without touching each other, the orgasms and the rush are too mind-blowing for words. She can only think of a handful of times in her life when her orgasms have rendered her speechless, but with Serena that seems to happen every night. Which brings her on to their emotional closeness. Whilst they are at the club, Serena seems restrained somehow. She doesn't seem to open up as much as she does when they're in the workplace; the way she interacts with her hasn't progressed any compared to the way it has outside of the club. And perhaps this is what renders Bernie speechless, the fact that she knows Serena is holding back, and she doesn't know quite the reason why. It's too dangerous to ask, she's sure. Her mind runs over their nights in the club, thinking of how Serena seems to be holding back any emotion from their dances, and sees something perhaps a little more safe to broach, holds her breath whilst she considers her words.

“Can I ask you something?” She announces suddenly, siting back contemplatively in her chair, though she is anything but relaxed. Serena looks up in faint surprise.

“Yes, of course, darling. What is it?”

Bernie looks up to see Serena smiling fondly at her and takes a short breath.

“We’re… we’re close, wouldn't you say?” She bites the insides of her cheeks, her eyes searching the ceiling for a better way to phrase what it is she’d like to say. “I mean, as work colleagues go…”

Serena flashes her a smirk. “Yes, we are,” she replies evenly, leaning back in her chair and mirroring Bernie’s position.

Bernie nods, fighting the urge to wring her hands together. “And I think, as customers go, I've never quite had anyone as… loyal, as you are.” Serena raises an eyebrow. Bernie smiles bashfully. “Amongst other things.” She catches Serena’s eye, and the other woman chuckles lightly.

“Well, you are rather good at what you do. I don't think I'd ever want a dance from someone else.”

Bernie fights a blush, continuing with her words. “And we… we do things that wouldn't normally… we have a rather unconventional relationship, for a dancer and customer. I mean we—“

“I hate to say it, but is this a conversation best suited to the workplace, dear?” Bernie thinks she can see a slight blush in Serena’s cheeks.

“No, no. I mean— I’m not—“ She takes a deep breath, steadying herself as Serena frowns at her in concern. “What I’m saying is, there seem to be very little boundaries between us there, and I'm… Well, I’m more than okay with that.” She chuckles half-heartedly. “But still, you never even… your hands—“

_RING-RING. RING-RING_

“Sorry,” Serena says quickly, grabbing the phone on her desk. “Hello? Oh, hi Elle. How’s thi— Okay… Okay… Yep… Yep, that’s absolutely fine. Hang on one second.” She placed her hand over the receiver, turning back to Bernie. “Major RTC. Three fatalities at the scene. They want another doctor there but ED are already two down. Do you fancy it? It sounds a nasty one.” Bernie nods, standing up quickly. “Yes, Bernie’s on her way… Yeah, okay… Perfect. Thank you.” She hangs up. “Iain will be outside the front entrance in two minutes.”

Bernie offers half a smile, shoving her phone and her pager into her pocket. “Ah, good. Army boy. I’d better go get kitted up.”

“Yes, I’ll see you later. ED will no doubt keep you down there when you come in.”

Bernie rolls her eyes. “No doubt.”

She swings open the door, and Serena calls out a quick ‘good luck’ as she rushes off to work.

::

By the time Serena makes it to the club that night, there isn't a single part of her that isn't aching. With the new trauma facilities yet to open, they had been filled to capacity with casualties from the RTC, and without Bernie it had been difficult to hold the fort. The crash had involved two minibuses, a car and a lorry, and when she had left work that evening they were up to six fatalities and had had to amputate both legs on a girl in her mid-teens. It was emotionally exhausting stuff, and all Serena wants is to have Bernie’s arms around her, to be held by her.

She’s just walking up to the entrance of the club when she hears her call out.

“Serena?”

She turns, seeing her dark silhouette at the end of a dark alley that runs down the side of the club.

“I’m down here! I'm running late; I've only just got here. Come in this way if you like, it’ll save you entry.”

Serena pauses for a moment, before following her voice down the alley, careful to mind her step on the uneven cobbles. Bernie is stood at the end, looking fraught, small hold-all and mobile phone in one hand as she holds open the door with her other. She has dark circles beneath her eyes, and her hair is ragged. When she turns, Serena gets a waft of her shampoo and thinks that she must have just showered before coming out.

They walk up some stairs inside and come to a white door. Bernie punches a code into the keypad, and Serena notices that her fingers are trembling, and frowns at her worriedly.

“Bernie, are you alright?”

The other woman hesitates, before nodding quickly, not looking at her friend as she pushes open the door. “Yeah, fine,” she replies shortly, holding the door behind her for Serena to follow. She does so, looking around to see that they have now entered the back of the club. Bernie signs her name on some kind of time sheet, before continuing onwards. They get to a room protected by the club’s signature velvet curtain, and Bernie pokes her head inside before holding it open for Serena.

“You can come in; it’s quiet tonight. The others won't mind.” She still avoids eye contact as Serena follows her into what she assumes is the dressing room. Along the left hand wall is a row on dressing tables, all littered with various hair and make up products. The opposite wall is covered with mirrors, and Serena feels oddly self-conscious in front of them. A quick glance around the room tells her that they are alone, and she relaxes a little.

“Busy day,” she comments, sitting on the chair Bernie has pulled out for her. She watches as Bernie pulls her outfit and a makeup bag from her hold-all, then averts her eyes as Bernie begins fumbling with the buttons of her blouse.

“Yes,” she replies simply, her voice tight. Serena waits, listening to the rustling of fabric as she gives up on her buttons, instead pulling the blouse over her head. She hears her pull down the zip of her skinny jeans, and smiles to herself as she hears her wrestling out of them, cursing to herself as she stumbles.

Eventually, she sees out of the corner of her eye that Bernie is shoving her clothes into the hold-all and allows herself to look up. She is dressed simply today, in a plain black high-leg bodysuit with thin straps at the shoulders and scooped down at the back. Serena finds it odd, seeing her without her stockings, and tries to hold back from watching in fascination as she carefully rolls each one up her legs. She takes her heels from her bag, and crouches down to fasten them.

“How was the accident?” Serena asks eventually, as Bernie fumbles with the buckles on her shoes, her fingers still trembling. She stops, her breath hitching slightly. She clears her throat.

“It was fine, Serena. I’m fine.”

Serena bites her lip as she watches Bernie continue to fiddle with the straps, getting more and more frustrated with herself.

“Oh, for goodness sake. Let me do it.” She waves Bernie’s hand away, and Bernie stands up straight as Serena crouches down before her, carefully fastening the buckles on her shoes. When she stands up again, Bernie is looking away from her, her jaw set. Serena huffs, folding her arms.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you? Because you’re fooling no one.” She raises an eyebrow at her sternly. Bernie casts her a brief glance, before looking down.

“Honestly, I'm fine. It's nothing. I'm just tired.” She sighs. Serena rolls her eyes.

“You really are the most ridiculously stubborn woman I've ever known,” she says pointedly. “And I realise you haven't met Elinor, but I’m telling you now she's a hard one to beat there.”

Bernie barks out half a laugh, but it quickly becomes more like a sob. Serena waits as Bernie collects herself, her arms still folded, but then her friend's shoulders drop defeatedly.

“It was just… that RTC was pretty rough.” She squeezes her eyes shut tight, running a hand through her hair. “I've seen men with limbs blown off; I've seen men with just a limb left of them. I feel so stupid.” She takes a shaky breath. Serena relaxes her posture a bit, allowing her arms to drop to her sides, her forehead creasing in sympathy.

“You don't need to feel stupid,” she replies softly, taking half a step closer to her friend, fighting the urge to reach out. “It gets to the best of us sometimes. It's what makes us human.”

Bernie huffs, and Serena rolls her eyes at her bravado. “I know you like to think you're all macho, but you don't fool me.” Bernie looks up at her with an eyebrow raised, and Serena sees that she has tears in her eyes. Her heart lurches, and she takes another half a step forward, her heart breaking to see her friend in such a way.

“There was a car, in the accident,” Bernie begins, her voice throaty distant as Serena has come to recognise happens when she is upset. “The driver hadn't been wearing a seatbelt. Anyway, we all got there; everyone assumed that the driver was one of the walking wounded. But then, I went to speak to one of the firemen; we were ready to cut my patient out of the other car. I saw this… bundle, in the roughage on the other side of the side barrier. I didn't think was anything, but then I looked back and I saw the white of… of his shoe. And I went over, and he was there, and his face was… gone. All of it. He’d landed face down on the gravel and it just…” She gestures to her face. “Anyway, when I went over, I saw his hair, his clothes, his build, and just for a moment I thought it was Cam, and I was just… frozen, like I've never been before. I couldn't…” She trails off, and Serena looks in her eyes, expecting to see sorrow, expecting her to look haunted, but all she sees on her friend’s face is guilt. And she recognises it, knows what Bernie is thinking, knows that she is hating herself for not being there for her children when they were growing up, knows that she is cursing all that time wasted, and she would do anything to stop her from thinking like that. She has to comfort her.

She takes a breath, reaches her hand out steadily, places it on Bernie’s arm as cautiously as if she were made of paper. Slowly she brushes her fingertips across the soft skin there, feeling the goosebumps rising on her skin.

“Come on now, Bernie,” she murmurs gently, her heart hammering in her chest. “You’re a good mother. Please don’t get caught up thinking like that.”

Bernie smiles at her gratefully, but her eyes still glisten.

“I don’t know why this has gotten me like this,” she shakes her head at herself, wiping her eyes with her free arm. “I don’t even have the excuse of being hormonal.”

Serena chuckles softly, her hand drifting down Bernie’s arm to link their fingers together. “I think it’s safe to say those days are gone for both of us.” She gives her hand a squeeze. “It probably just caught you on a bad day.” She sighs. “You should have stayed home.”

Bernie shakes her head quickly, looking down at their joined hands. “No, I wanted to see you.”

An incredulous laugh bursts from Serena, her eyes widening. “Are you kidding? You don’t have to wait for me to be here to see me!” She tells her, squeezing her hand for emphasis. “You’ve heard of mobile phones, haven’t you? Just drop me a text, or better still just knock on my door! I’m sure Jason would love the company.”

“And you?” Bernie asks, a hint of shyness in her tone that takes Serena by surprise. She looks up at her sheepishly, her fringe falling over her eyes, and when Serena first opens her mouth to speak no sound comes out, her throat suddenly dry. She feels it, in her stomach. _This is an opportunity_.

“And me,” she replies quietly, brushing her thumb over the back of Bernie’s hand. “I always love your company, Bernie. More than anyone else. Though don’t tell Jason that.” She chuckles nervously, and suddenly they feel too close, and the air is too thick, and she feels as though she’s drowning.

“I can keep a secret,” Bernie promises, her voice soft and low. Serena feels a bubble of emotion in the back of her throat as she looks at her, thinking about all the things she wants to say, thinking about how important this is to her. She’s so in love with her, now they are breathing the same air she feels as though she could cry. It’s too good, too perfect a moment, too precious to rush.

But then suddenly they hear the curtain at the door being whipped back as another dancer arrives, and they break apart with a jolt. She looks at Serena with slight curiosity before greeting Bernie with a nod, tossing her bag under one of the dressing tables and shucking off her coat. She is already heavily made up and dressed for work, so after a couple of squirts of perfume nods at the two women again before strutting out into the main club.

“I should be getting ready,” Bernie mutters, leaning over and picking up a tube of mascara from the table. Serena murmurs agreement, standing back so that Bernie can see in the mirror and collecting herself for a moment, taking a few steadying breaths. She had been _so_ _close_. But she feels proud of herself, really. If it wasn’t for that interruption, she knows that she would have been able to build up the courage. _It’s progress_.

She hears Bernie huffing beside her, and looks to see her hand is still trembling as she applies her mascara. She resists the urge to laugh as she sees the black smudges beneath her friend’s eye.

“Need a hand?” She asks, picking up a tissue from the side. Bernie pauses, then sighs, holding out the mascara brush to Serena.

“I’m fine now, I promise. Just my hands haven’t quite got the message yet.”

Serena raises an eyebrow, rubbing away the mascara gently with the tissue before carefully applying it again. She helps her to finish off the rest of her makeup, and by the time she is putting the finishing touches to her lipstick they are both more relaxed, Bernie’s breaths now even and her hands steadier.

“There,” Serena announces triumphantly, replacing the cap on the lipstick as Bernie beams at her. She places it on the counter before turning back to her, her eyes scanning her friend’s face. “Beautiful.” Bernie blushes a little, her eyes never moving from Serena’s, and she _does_ look beautiful. She _is_ beautiful. And Serena is absolutely blown away by it. It makes her lose control.

She leans forward without thinking, and places a chaste kiss on her friend’s lips.

If she wasn’t so certain in her knowledge of human anatomy, she’d say that her heart had leapt into her oesophagus right now.

It’s short and it’s sweet, her eyelids fluttering closed as she allows herself to enjoy the feeling of their lips together _just for a moment_ before she realises what she’s doing, and pulls back hurriedly.

Bernie’s eyes are still closed, and Serena’s knees feel weak as she sees her rubbing her lips together, wondering if Bernie can taste her there. _What have I done_? She panics, holding her breath, cursing herself for that momentary lapse in judgement and restraint. She feels like she should apologise, that she should take it back, but she is glued to the spot. Eventually Bernie opens her eyes.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, smiling gently. She meets Serena’s gaze, and the other woman frowns in confusion. Bernie’s eyes track down to her lips, before laughing softly. “You’ve got my lipstick on you.”

Serena holds her hand up to her mouth awkwardly, taking half a step back. “Oh. Whoops.”

“The colour suits you,” Bernie observes, a hint of playfulness in her tone. Serena stares at her, _really_ stares at her, her breath catching in her throat, and she sees the warmth in her eyes, the rosiness of her cheeks, the way her tongue darts out to her lips, as if tasting Serena there again, and she decides to take another risk.

“Maybe you should kiss me more often, then.”

Her hearts hammers in her chest dizzyingly as she awaits a response. Bernie’s face is perfectly neutral, giving nothing away but the slightly curious look in her eyes, and it makes Serena so frustrated she wants to scream. She wants to tell her everything. But she feels she’s gone too far, for now, and so she holds it in, though it pains her to do so.

Bernie reaches out, interlinks their fingers with a faint smile. “Come on. I think we’ve spent too much time in here.”

Her heart drops a little in response to Bernie ignoring her request. She wonders if she’s got it all wrong, if really Bernie doesn't want any more from their friendship than they already have. All the signs had been pointing to the opposite, but now…

She allows Bernie to lead her to the bar and then to their private room in silence. When they arrive Bernie simply nods at her to hang her things up by the wall. Serena watches quietly as she pours them both a glass and when she hands one to Serena their fingertips brush, sending a jolt through Serena like a bolt of lightning. Serena sits down, taking a rather large sip of wine and grimacing. Bernie moves to perch next to her, but then suddenly stands again, biting the insides of her cheeks.

“Dance?”

Serena pauses, holding Bernie’s gaze, fingertips toying with the stem of her glass. She can’t put her finger on the look that Bernie is giving her right now, but she thinks that she doesn’t like it, thinks that it’s bad. Bernie is rushing this, she thinks; she wants rid of her. She’s overstepped the mark and Bernie wants this over and done with as soon as possible.

“Is that okay?” Serena asks tentatively, still looking her friend in the eye, trying desperately to work out what it is that she is feeling.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Bernie replies, almost challengingly. Serena frowns, her eyes narrowing, then stands, feeling a little dizzy as her heart races and her chest feels tight. She goes and sits down as Bernie flicks on the stereo, pausing by it for a moment before striding over to Serena, her face entirely unreadable as she begins to dance.

As ever, Serena watches with awe as the other woman twists and twirls before her. She sinks to her knees, crawling towards Serena and pushing her legs apart, brushing her lips along the inside of her thigh, raking her nails up her calfs. Serena’s apprehension only serves to heighten her senses, and she shivers as she feels Bernie's hot breaths through her trousers.

Bernie spins around, perching herself between Serena's thighs, leaning her head back onto her shoulder as she runs her hands over her breasts, tweaking her nipples through the fabric, arching into her own touch. Serena licks her lips, feeling somewhat indecent to be as aroused as she is when she's almost certain that she has made her friend uncomfortable. Her sex stings and throbs as she feels Bernie’s ass grinding against it, hears the little breaths she makes, but tonight her movements are tight, less fluid, less relaxed. Serena wants to apologise to her, to make up that she’s been drinking and that is the reason she kissed her.

Her thoughts are interrupted as she sees Bernie sliding a hand down her stomach, smoothing over the insides of her thighs before brushing over her sex, her hips bucking into her hand. Serena’s stomach jolts and her clit twitches as Bernie runs a finger beneath the hem of her bodysuit, her breath catching as she dips into her cunt before bringing it back up, touching it with the tip of her tongue. Then she leans back further on Serena’s shoulder, grinding their hips together a little more insistently, turning her head so that her lips brush Serena’s jaw, and holds the glistening digit to her lips.

Serena pauses, her mouth hanging open, ready to taste her. And she thinks, _Bernie is wet_. She's turned on by this; she’s enjoying it. And she turns her head and looks her in the eye, and she sees the way her pupils have dilated, sees the glassiness there that tell her arousal, sees the rosiness of her cheeks. Her hips buck involuntarily, causing Bernie to whimper softly, to grind back against her more forcefully, and they set up a rhythm, Serena never breaking eye contact as she closes her lips around the finger, takes it deep in her mouth, moans at the taste. She watches as Bernie’s eyelids flutter, her hips moving ever more desperately, her free hand returning to between her legs, and Serena just… Seeing Bernie so weak, so frantic, makes her whole body feel as though it were on fire. Her breasts feel heavy, her nipples almost painful with the ache to be touched as they press against Bernie’s back. She sucks harder on her friend’s finger, lapping up every last taste of her, grazing her teeth along the length of it, before she feels it leave her mouth with a pop as Bernie moves away, stands forward before dropping to a squat and pushing her ass out, giving it a loud slap and gasping.

Serena bites her lip. She wants to talk to her, as she normally would, wants to tell her how fucking hot she is, how devastatingly sexy and earth-shatteringly beautiful she is, but she feels like today it is somehow inappropriate. Bernie hasn't spoken to her yet, so she maintains the silence. She fights herself moaning like a depraved woman as Bernie slaps herself again, throwing her head back, her free hand roughly squeezing her breasts, and Serena’s teeth are digging into her lip so hard she can taste blood as she fights to keep her fists at her sides. She has only touched herself once while Bernie has been dancing, has managed to resist every time since, but something about tonight… It’s the nerves, this delicious uncertainty between them, that’s sending Serena wild.

Without thinking she spreads her legs a little bit wider as Bernie approaches her again, hips swinging and chest out. She drops to her knees again, this time going straight to brush her lips over Serena’s crotch. The sound that the other woman makes can only be described as a yelp as she feels that light friction over her burning cunt, and Bernie moves in again, buries her face there almost hungrily as Serena fights to keep from bucking against her, fails. Her knuckles are white at her sides, and she gasps as she feels Bernie hum against her, feels a burst of wetness coating her sex as it clenches and twitches, her breaths getting more and more erratic.

Then Bernie moves away, leaving her a trembling, shivering wreck as she gently makes her way up her body, her lips only briefly touching her breasts before she brings her knees up to straddle her. Her hips move more slowly now, allowing Serena to regain some of her composure, still moving in time with the music.

As she begins to recover, Serena notices that, though Bernie’s breasts are level with her face, she is still fully clothed. She blinks blearily up at her friend, who is looking down at her with hazy eyes. Her hands are on her shoulders for leverage, her body rolling against Serena’s slowly and intimately. It feels… spellbinding, hypnotic. And as she looks up at her friend, she sees the faint flicker of a smile there, and beams back at her, her heart fluttering with a rush of love so strong she has to close her eyes for a moment.

And that’s when she feels it, the hot breath against her cheek. She opens her eyes slowly, her lips parted as she finds Bernie’s dangerously close to hers, her breaths shallow, her cheeks rouged. Her eyes flicker from her friend’s lips to her eyes, wide and questioning, and she lets out a small whimper.

“Serena?”

::

“Dance?”

Bernie swallows thickly, feeling somewhat awkward as she stands in front of her friend, unsure of any other words to say. Her mind is whirring. Less than ten minutes ago, Serena kissed her. It was a shock, and she had just been ready to respond when her friend had pulled away.

She feels bad, giving her the silent treatment like this, but she’s too in her head, too preoccupied with what this could mean to make conversation. _Maybe you should kiss me more often_. What did that mean? She squeezes her eyes shut in frustration.

“Is that okay?”

“Why wouldn't it be?”

She realises her words have come out a little more clipped than she intended, but tension grips at her chest and she can't bring herself to care. She stares at her friend, meets her gaze, feels tears behind her eyes. She doesn't know what to do. Serena had kissed her, and seemed to want to kiss her more. But in what capacity? It was becoming ever more confusing, where the boundaries lay between the dance and their true feelings. Now, any move Serena made on her, or vice versa, could be construed to mean either nothing or everything, and there was no way to tell between the two other than _ask her_. But she can't ask her. Because it's too much of a risk. And she's a coward.

They both are.

So as Bernie began to dance, she tried, oh she _tried_ to remain as professional as possible, to keep a distance between them. But the way Serena looks at her… it's like an addiction, a drug, and she just can’t help herself. Anything to elicit those moans, the little breaths of pleasure. She wants to kiss her more than she wants anything, has to make the decision whether it is worth breaking her heart over.

But then Serena gazes up at her, gives her _that smile_ , and she's lost. Oh, she’s lost. Every bone in her body aches with need and desire, and she takes advantage of Serena’s closed eyes, dips her head down slowly.

And Serena eyes open, wide and hazy, and she stops, her heart beating so hard she wonders if Serena can hear. Her eyes flicker down to her lips, then back to her eyes, and the uncertainty grabs her again, twists in her stomach.

“Serena?”

::

“Serena?”

She feels Bernie’s breath tickle against her lips as she talks, inhales the faint scent of Shiraz on her breath, and she can't hold back. It's too delicious, to wonderful to resist.

So with one final moment of hesitation, she brings her lips up to Bernie’s, finally locking together in a hot, needy, open-mouthed kiss.

And this time, Bernie is immediate to respond.

Her hands come up almost immediately from Serena’s shoulders to knot in her hair, using it as leverage to press their lips together roughly and hungrily, teeth bumping and breaths mingling. She moans as she feels Serena’s tongue touch her own, licks inside her mouth with equal desperation, is unable to prevent the high-pitched wail that rumbles from the back of her throat.

“God, Bernie.”

Serena's teeth tug at her bottom lip with such ferocity it makes Bernie’s legs turn to jelly, and suddenly she can't balance herself standing any more. She needs more friction, needs to feel Serena all over her.

Serena grunts in surprise as Bernie twists them around to lay her back on the chaise longue, pressing her whole body against Serena’s as her lips come crashing back down onto hers. She runs her hands all over the other woman’s body, up her sides, over her breasts, reaching around to squeeze her arse without even thinking. And when she feels Serena bring a leg up around her, she wastes no time in straddling her other thigh, pressing her her own insistently against Serena’s sex and gasping as she moans into her mouth.

“Oh my… Fuck.”

She bucks her hips wildly, Serena meeting each thrust with equal enthusiasm, their breaths becoming more and more ragged as they move together. Serena thinks she’s never kissed anyone, never been kissed with such hunger before, never wanted or needed it so much. Each rut of her hips sends heat all the way through her, her vision blurring as she gets closer and closer.

“Oh god. Shit. Bernie, fucking… ah!”

She moans and writhes beneath her friend, her hands still at her sides but her body more than making up for it as she moves against her. She's burning up, searing, her whole body on fire.

“Bernie. Bernie, I’m going to… I need…”

“Touch yourself, Serena,” Bernie gasps against her, her own hand, Serena suddenly notices, moving beneath her bodysuit between them. The backs of Bernie’s knuckles pounding her could be enough, she thinks, but then Bernie continues, “Fuck yourself. I need to taste you.”

Just at these words she can already feel herself reaching the edge, thrusts her hand down her trousers with urgency as her heart pounds and her vision fades. And she bites down hard on Bernie’s lip as she comes harder than ever before, her whole world shaking, feeling herself pulsing against her hand and continuing her movements, pushing herself further. She can feel Bernie trembling above her, kisses her harder.

“Serena… Oh fucking God… I’m so wet… so close…”

Serena can feel herself building again at her words, thrusts two fingers inside herself, then another, uses the movement of Bernie’s hips to pace herself.

“Bernie, come for me. You're so hot… I’m gonna come again… Oh!”

Bernie moans loud against her lips as she comes, her hips bucking wildly and her breaths erratic. Serena arches her back against her, pumps harder into herself, finds she can't breathe. She’s fucking herself so hard that it burns, but she can't stop, until suddenly she comes with a gush and a groan, her breaths hot against Bernie’s mouth.

She feels Bernie lift her fingers to her lips and groans, lapping up every last drop, lifting her own fingers to Bernie's lips, and then kissing her again, hot and open mouthed, tasting each other, drowning in one another. And her brain is too fuzzy to think. She knows that they've crossed a line here, but she doesn't know, she can't know what Bernie is thinking, what it means, and at this point she can't bring herself to care. As long as Bernie keeps kissing her.

And she does. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed <3


	10. on a night like this i deserve to get kissed at least once or twice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so so so much for your support with this. I honestly would not be still writing this without it, so keep it coming! 
> 
> I'm sorry this took an age to complete, my life has been insane recently and I've just not had time. 9,300 words makes up for that though, right? ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

_[Song for this chapter: Someone's Looking At You - The Boomtown Rats](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oYQ_MBFmpi8) _

* * *

“Bernie… Bernie…”

Serena whimpers into Bernie’s mouth as she deepens the kiss, their tongues touching and her body moving against Serena’s in a smooth rhythm. The other woman moans, forcing herself to pull back, but is unable to resist long and dived back down for another taste of her friend's lips. She remembers herself, and manages to pull back for a moment. 

“Bernie, wait.”

Bernie freezes, watching Serena’s face with a frown as she listens intently. 

_BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ._

“That’s my phone,” Serena groans, making to sit up. Bernie grabs her wrist lazily, tugging her back down. 

“Leave it,” she murmurs against her lips, one hand moving to rest in the groove of her waist. Serena grins, kissing her back sweetly, before standing up with a roll of her eyes. Bernie’s huffs, running a hand through her hair to collect herself. Her lips sting and her throats feels dry, and part of her wonders if she’ll be able to move her jaw in the morning. But it's worth it. God, it’s worth it. Just to feel Serena Campbell’s lips on hers…

“Hello, Jason. Are you alright?” Bernie’s head snaps around at Serena’s words, her brow furrowing. She sits up quickly, wincing as her back cracks, and stretches as Serena continues. 

“Yes, I know I'm not at home, Jason… Well, I did tell you not to wait up. I'm not usually back before… You what?” She looks at her watch, before widening her eyes at Bernie, her mouth falling open. “I’m very sorry, Jason. I must have lost track of time… Well you can be assured that I am safe and sound… Yes, of course… See you soon. Goodnight.” 

“He alright?” Bernie asks over a yawn. Serena raises her eyebrows at her, pointing at her watch exaggeratedly. 

“It’s 3AM!” She exclaims, throwing her arms out in emphasis. Bernie’s mouth opens in surprise, but quickly curls into a smirk. 

“Well, they do say time flies when you're having fun…” 

Shaking her head fondly, Serena clears her throat at Bernie to make some room for her on the chaise longue. She shuffles up, resting her arm along the back of it for Serena to nestle into. 

“You’re very self-assured there,” she teases, resting against Bernie’s arm just far away enough that she can look her in the eye. “Some might even say cocky.”

Bernie laughs heartily, her cheeks rosy. “Are you saying I'm mistaken? I could always stop.” She places a quick kiss on Serena’s jawline for emphasis. Serena shivers, shaking her head. 

“Now let’s not be too hasty there.” 

Again Bernie laughs, tightening her arm around Serena’s shoulder and tugging her towards her until her head is nestled against her neck. 

“You do make me laugh,” she smiles, her eyes on the ceiling. 

“I have noticed,” Serena replies dryly, unconsciously turning her body to press herself closer against her friend. Bernie shakes her head. 

“Not like that,” she continues, her thumb absentmindedly drawing circles on Serena’s upper arm. “I mean… We enjoy one another’s company, don’t we? We get on well.” 

“You don’t say,” Serena murmurs, and Bernie smiles to herself fondly. 

“Yes, I’m thinking in a little more innocent manner.”

“I don't think there's much innocent about this, Bernie.”

Hesitating for a moment, Bernie contemplates what she is trying to say, before sighing. “Yeah. I suppose you're right.” They lay in silence for a few minutes, and Bernie is almost convinced that Serena has dozed off until she speaks. 

“Are you… Were you wondering if we should see more of one another? Outside of work?” Serena asks tentatively. Bernie bites her lip, before nodding, glad that Serena can’t see her face. 

“Yeah,” she replies, her voice coming out a little more throaty than she would have liked. “I mean, we used to spend so much time together. Well, before I started working here we did.” Serena nods her agreement. “You said earlier about… about dropping you a text, or knocking on your door. I mean… would that really be okay?” She feels Serena still in her arms, before leaning up on one arm, a soft smile on her lips. 

“Believe me, Bernie, when I say that there's nothing I would like more.”

Their eyes meet for several moments, warm and searching, until Serena’s gaze drifts down to Bernie’s lips. 

“Well…” She clears her throat nervously. “Other than… than for you to kiss me again.” 

Bernie rolls her eyes theatrically. “Only if I _have_ to,” she smirks, lifting her head up to take Serena’s bottom lip between her teeth. Serena grins as she feels their mouths pressing together, deep languid kisses that make her head spin and her hips roll softly against her friend as she pulls her on top of her. Placing a hand either side of Bernie’s shoulders to steady herself, Serena’s kisses become hungrier and more biting, her tongue sliding against the other woman’s as she writhes and moans beneath her. She rocks her hips firmly against Bernie’s, slipping a thigh between her legs and eliciting the most delicious of whimpers. 

“Ugh, I really have to go,” she pants against her collar eventually, provoking a groan from the woman beneath her. 

“Are you trying to kill me?” She asks, turning her head and pressing her lips to Serena’s forehead, kissing down her nose to her lips again; a plea for her to stay. 

But Serena knows that she needs to get back. She allows Bernie to kiss her for a few moments longer before pulling away with a sigh. Patting her hair down, she moves to get her coat while Bernie watches her with hungry eyes. 

“So, I’ll text you,” she tells her, a playful glint in her eye. Serena nods. 

“Please do.” She shrugs on her coat. 

“And maybe one day I’ll just… knock on your door?” She didn't mean it to come out as a question, but she makes up for the break in her bravado by flashing Serena a devilish smirk. 

“You’re very welcome to,” she laughs at her, quickly checking her phone before picking up her bag. “Jason thinks you’re great. I'm sure he’d love to have you round for tea one night.”

“Really?” Bernie asks, surprised. 

“Of course,” Serena replies, frowning at her. “Of course he does.”

Bernie stares at her for a couple of moments, before nodding slowly. “Good.” 

Narrowing her eyes, Serena scrutinises her for a few more moments. Then her phone buzzes again in her pocket - a message from Jason listing the impact of late nights on one’s health - and she sighs heavily. 

“I really do need to get going.” She nods at where Bernie’s clothes are piled on the floor, and the other woman jumps up with a grin. 

“Incapable of walking yourself out, darling?” Her grin widens, watching Serena’s eyes leave her face as she stands there brazenly, stark naked but for her stilettos and hold ups. When Serena doesn't answer for a while, she clears her throat, Serena blinking up at her with a look that makes her laugh out loud. “Give me a minute to get dressed.” 

“Do you really have to?” Serena teases. Bernie laughs again. 

“Of course not. I could start treating patients in the buff too if you like.”

“Well, it would save a lot of money on laundry,” Serena retorts, watching as she steps back into her bodysuit. “Our mortality figures, however…”

“Yes, I dare say some of the older gentlemen on the ward might find it a little too much.”

“I wasn't talking about them.”

Their eyes meet, and both burst into giggles. 

“I'd have thought you’d be used to it by now,” Bernie poses, stepping forward and taking both of Serena’s hands in hers. Serena eyes her curiously. 

“I don't think I could ever get used to this, Bernie.”

The other woman considers her for a moment, a faint smile on her lips. “Is that a good thing?” She asks, swinging their joined hands about between them. 

Serena gives them a squeeze. “Of course it is,” she murmurs. After a small silence, their eyes still meeting, takes a breath. “Have I ever told you you're beautiful?” She manages to keep her voice steady, to mask how vulnerable her words made her feel. Bernie blushes, but maintains eye contact. 

“You’ve said a lot of things in this room,” she counters, with half a smile. “I'm pretty sure that was in there somewhere.”

“I don't say it enough.” She swallows. “I don't think I ever could.” 

Bernie is blushing furiously now, and she can't help but look away, down at their joined hands, and so misses how Serena’s mouth opens again, as if to say something more, before faltering at the last moment. 

“Come on, then,” she says instead, dropping Bernie’s hands and gesturing to her clothes. “If you really insist on wearing them.” 

Flashing her a quick grin, Bernie moves to get dressed, feeling Serena’s gaze on her as she does so and slowing a little so as to tease her just that extra couple of seconds longer. They walk down to the exit in comfortable silence, fingertips brushing on occasion but never quite interlinking. 

“So, I’ll text you.”

“Yes, text me.” 

They stand facing one another, both unsure of quite what to do next. Usually, they would just say goodbye, or on occasion Bernie has placed a quick kiss of Serena’s cheek, but tonight, she feels, the dynamic has shifted slightly. She doesn’t know quite what has happened. Serena had kissed her; they had kissed each other. But does that mean that it is right to now? Or is it, like most things, something that is kept confined to the club? 

She decides the former, leans in for a kiss. 

And Serena turns her cheek.

“Goodnight,” she beams at her, seemingly oblivious to Bernie’s confused blink as she pulls back. 

“Yes… Yes, goodnight.” 

She stares after her friend as she walks away before shaking her head, and returning to work.

::

It takes a couple of days for Bernie to shake it off, Serena turning her head away outside of the club. 

She knows she’s overthinking it; it was a kiss goodbye, so it was reasonable that Serena expect it to be on the cheek. But Bernie couldn’t help but feel that they had turned a corner, in the club that night. They had kissed, and kissed and kissed and kissed. For the first time. And then Serena had told her that she wanted to see more of her away from the club. Surely that meant…?

Part of her is adamant that she would have asked her, would have confronted her about everything the next night that she came to the club, were it not for Jason being stuck down with Scarlet Fever and Serena having to stay home to look after him. So now it’s been more than a week since they were at the club together, and Bernie thinks she might be starving. Her skin itches with the desire to be near her friend, to feel her body against hers, and she thinks with a smirk that the could be at risk of developing repetitive strain injury, she’s had to take care of herself so much. And now it’s Friday; she only has to wait two more nights for Serena to return to the club. Jason is more or less recovered now, and Serena is back at work. If only she could distract herself…

She huffs a sigh, casting a quick glance up at the speaker of the mortality figures meeting that they have been forced to attend. The new section of the trauma unit has only been open four days now and she would much rather be elbow-deep in someone’s chest cavity right now, but Serena had begged her not to leave her to suffer it alone and Bernie, as always, couldn’t bring herself to say no to her. So here they are, sat at opposite ends of a large meeting table, listening to some boring old chap in a terribly undersized suit with absolutely no healthcare experience past his MMR jab drone on about how they must be doing their jobs wrong if not everyone under the age of ninety walks out of the place alive and kicking. 

Rolling her eyes for what seems like the hundredth time, she discreetly pulls her phone out of her pocket, leaning back a little so as to see it underneath the table and replying to some text messages. One from Cam, a couple from an old army friend, one about her shifts in the club next week. She taps out a reply that she will do her usual - Sunday to Wednesday, now, in line with the days that Serena chooses to frequent the club - and hits send. For a few moments she just stares at the screen, bored out of her tree and seriously considering banging her head off the table if the man doesn’t shut up soon, but then remembers she has an extremely important task that she could be using this time figuring out how to complete: texting Serena. 

She pulls up her draft folder with a grimace, scrolling down all of her previous attempts over the past few days. _Hi Serena… Hey, Serena… Hi, it’s me… Hello, your stripper friend here… Serena, would you… Is it terribly forward of me to… Do you… Are you free… What are you… I…_

Shaking her head at herself, she swipes delete on all of them, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. She takes a deep breath, focussing herself, trying to think about what it really is she is trying to say to Serena here. On the most basic level, she is trying to make conversation. It’s silly really; she finds it easy enough to make conversation with her in real life. Surely it’s just the fact that she’s having to think so hard about what to say, rather than the words just flowing out, that is making it so difficult. 

She puts her phone back in her pocket with a sigh, resting her chin on her hand and staring blankly at the speaker, who is now attempting with little success to show some statistics on the overhead projector. Her eyelids are just beginning to flutter closed when she feels her phone buzz with a new text.

_Do I what? S_

Bernie frowns, tapping out her reply. 

_What do you what? B_

She looks up at Serena in confusion, but the other woman’s head in bent down, tapping out another message.

_I don’t know what. You asked me. S_

_Asked you what? B_

Their eyes meet over the table, both of them looking equally bewildered with one another. 

_You just sent me a text saying ‘do you’. S_

Bernie’s mouth opens slightly, and she looks in her sent folder to find that she had in fact accidentally pressed send rather than delete on that draft message, thanks her lucky stars it wasn’t a more compromising one.

_Oh. Whoops. My mistake. B_

_You’ve no business texting in such an important meeting anyway ;P S_

Looking up again, Bernie sees Serena has turned back to the screen, but the tightness of her jaw and the curl of her lips tells her that this conversation is far from over. 

_You started it. B_

She pretends not to be watching Serena as she reads the text, replies. 

_I did not, you did! S_

_How so? B  
_

_When you texted me ‘do you’. S_

_That was an accident. B_

_You still texted me first. S_

_Yeah but you’re the one that continued it. In a meeting. B_

_So did you. S_

They exchange a smirk over the table. 

_How old are you? B_

_Younger than you are, darling ;) S_

Bernie bites her lip in amusement. 

_Very petty. One might infer you're a little insecure about your age. B_

She sees the outraged shaking of Serena’s head and grins. 

_Absolutely not. I'm growing old gracefully, thank you very much. S_

_Disgracefully, more like. B_

They exchange another conspiring glance. 

_Definitely. I blame you ;) S_

_Whatever can you mean? B_

They gaze at one another for a long moment, until they are snapped out of it by the speaker swearing at the screen as he tries to figure out how to go back a slide. 

_Do you think this is ever going to end? B_

_I’m quite enjoying it actually. I might ask him to reiterate points six and seven. S_

_Those were the longest ones! B_

_Were they? S_

_Are you sure you’re actually enjoying the presentation, or just revelling in my suffering? B_

_Probably the latter ;) S_

_How terribly sadistic of you. B_

_Quite. S_

Bernie hesitates, then decides she’s bored enough to push the boundaries a bit.

_Is that your thing, then? B_

She looks across the table and smirks as she sees the colour rising in Serena’s cheeks. 

_Is this an appropriate workplace conversation? S_

Bernie bites her lip. 

_That wasn't a no… B_

_No, it wasn't. S_

Her breath hitches, and she shifts in her seat a little, something that, she realises when she looks up, isn't missed by Serena. 

_Why the interest? S_

It's Bernie’s turn to blush now, and she recoils, her heart hammering as she decides that she’s done far too much boundary-pushing for one day. 

_Just curious. B_

She sets her phone on the table, her eyes turning back to the speaker, though she can feel Serena’s on her. It’s a good ten minutes before her phone buzzes again. 

_Jason and I are having takeaway for supper tonight. You’re very welcome to join if you’d like? S_

Bernie looks up at her friend, who meets her gaze with a nervous smile. She grins back.

_I’d be delighted. B_

::

Oddly, Serena finds she doesn’t feel too nervous at the prospect of Bernie coming over. Perhaps it’s just that she hasn’t had enough time to get herself worked up about it. After the meeting had ended both of them had been in surgery for the remainder of the day, and by the time Serena was out Bernie had already gone home. So, in between the rush home and Jason wittering on in her ear whilst she was trying to get ready about some war documentary he couldn’t wait to hear Bernie’s take on, she didn’t really have much time to worry about how they might get on. 

About an hour before Bernie is due to arrive Serena calls up to order their food. Luckily, she had managed to catch Bernie to ask what she wanted before they had both been dragged off to theatre. She then focuses on setting the table and trying to look like she hadn't spent the entire time since getting home perfecting her makeup. 

The door rings at 8pm sharp, and Serena opens it to see Bernie standing there with a bottle of rather expensive-looking Shiraz in each hand and their pizzas balanced dangerously on one arm. 

“Dinner is served,” she announces with a half smile. Serena stares at her for a moment before taking the pizza boxes from her, looking around outside for the driver. 

“Where’s the driver gone?” She asks, as Bernie closes the door behind herself, tucking one of the bottles under her arm. 

“Back to the shop, I’d guess,” Bernie replies, toeing off her shoes and pushing them next to where Serena and Jason’s are gathered. Serena frowns at her.

“But I haven’t paid,” she starts, then sighs in realisation. “Bernie, really—“

“My treat,” Bernie interrupts, holding up a hand that clearly tells her that this is not up for discussion. 

Serena purses her lips and rolls her eyes, before allowing herself to take in the blonde’s appearance. She definitely appears to have made an effort, though her hair is slightly windswept from the chilly autumn breeze. Serena thinks she even might be wearing lipstick, though, true to Bernie’s style, this is so subtle that it might just be the way the hallway light is shining on her. She wants to tell her how utterly gorgeous she looks, and suddenly is unsure of how she should be greeting her friend. In the club, Bernie would often place a kiss on her cheek, or take her hand. But here, it seems - and Serena knows - they are playing by a different set of rules. Their dalliance at the club is locked away, and now they are just two friends having dinner together. Just friends. 

If only it were that easy. 

Serena know’s she can’t act on the way that she is feeling, not here, but that doesn’t stop her heart from pounding like she’s about to go into arrest, doesn’t stop the shakiness of her breaths or the trembling of her fingers. Words failing her, she leads Bernie into the kitchen, shouting up to Jason that their food has arrived on the way, and pulls out a chair for her guest. 

“Always such a gent,” Bernie winks at her, handing Serena the bottles of wine before sitting down on the proffered chair. 

“Oh, behave,” Serena knocks her on the back of her head with her arm, and Bernie chuckles in that infuriating was she does when Serena rises to her teasing. She opens her mouth to reply, but is quickly silence as Jason announces his entry. 

“Hello, Bernie. You’re early.” 

She frowns, looks at her watch. “Was I not supposed to arrive at eight?”

Jason sits down in his chair carefully. “Yes, but you're always late to everything else. Considering how late you usually are for work, I estimated you to arrive at at least twenty past eight.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Bernie turns around to Serena, who is watching her with laughter in her eyes. 

“He does have a point. You are very rarely on time.” 

“Every day this week,” Jason interjects. Bernie sits back, sighing theatrically. 

“If I'd have known I was coming for a lecture…”

“Oh be quiet and eat your weird pizza.” Serena nudges her with her arm again before plating up their pizzas and sitting down, eyeing Bernie’s ham and pineapple with curiosity. 

“Are you going to eat your own or just stare at mine?” Bernie asks after a moment, raising an eyebrow. Serena jumps slightly, then picks up a slice of her own.

“I’m eating mine, thank you,” she nods pointedly, and Bernie laughs at her before shovelling in another mouthful. 

After that, the night seems to flow quite naturally. Serena asks Jason how his day was, and he goes off on some elaborate explanation of the mating cycle of a particular rare bird he had discovered, much to Serena’s amusement and Bernie’s fascination. Then he decides to quiz Bernie on the different birds she may have encountered in Afghanistan, and by the time Jason decides he would like to go and watch one of his recorded episodes of Pointless, Serena realises she hasn’t spoken for more than half an hour. 

“I’ll clear up, go sit down,” Serena insists as Jason leaves the kitchen and Bernie starts to pile up their plates. 

“It’ll be quicker if we both do it.” Bernie pops one of Jason’s abandoned crusts into her mouth before lifting the plates to the sink. 

“You do realise there’s some slices left of your own?” Serena tells her, loading up the first plate into the dishwasher. 

“Waste not, want not,” Bernie retorts, her words muffled slightly by her chewing. “Anyway, looked like you more wanted mine than I did. You’ve been starting at my plate all night.” 

Serena shakes her head. “Quite the opposite. I was wondering how on earth you can eat such a thing?” Bernie frowns at her questioningly. “Pineapple on pizza,” Serena emphasises.

“Have you not tried it?” Bernie replies, smirking. “I guarantee you’d like it. It’s not as bad as you think.” 

“I don’t need to try it,” Serena scoffs. Bernie laughs, taking one of the spare slices. 

“Come on, you might like it!” She lifts it to Serena’s mouth, and she turns her head in disgust, though her lips are curled upwards in a grin, and a laugh bursts out of her as Bernie continues wafting the pizza in front of her face. 

“You’re really not selling it,” Serena tells her, and exaggeratedly purses her lips shut, a hint of challenge glittering in her eyes. Bernie laughs too, steps closer, crowds her against the kitchen counter in a way that makes her hold her breath. It briefly crosses her mind how natural this feels, having Bernie in her house; they feel like a family. As she catches Bernie’s eye, she bites her lip, struggling to contain the burst of exhilaration running through her. It strikes her that she's so _happy_. Never before, she thinks, has she felt such contentment. Even though she can't tell Bernie how she feels, just having her here, like this, with that ridiculously smug grin on her face, is worth the world. 

That isn't to say that she’s given up hope of more. 

Bernie is pressed close to her now, so much so that their arms touch, and Serena, after a moment’s hesitation, reaches up to grasp Bernie’s wrist, pushing the pizza away from her face a little. They're not in the club now, Serena realises, and so she makes a mental note to allow herself to touch Bernie a little more, to allow herself that contact. There are no house rules any more, just her own judgement governs her actions. 

Bernie seems to pause slightly at the feeling of Serena’s cool fingers on her wrist. Then she lifts her free hand to rest on Serena’s waist, anchoring herself to her, that same playful warmth in her eye as moments ago as she gently pushes the slice back up to Serena’s lips. The other woman purses her lips tighter, then opens them slightly, just wide enough to take a small bite. 

It's not disgusting, but it's unpleasant enough to make Serena wince as she chews, and Bernie honks out a laugh. 

“Now you’re just being melodramatic,” she teases. Serena forces it down, shaking her head. 

“I don't know what I was expecting, but that really was something else,” she half chokes. 

“Well, I think it's delicious.” She takes a large mouthful, and Serena smiles at her fondly, her hand leaving Bernie’s wrist to rest on her hip. They stay there for a few moments, enjoying their casual embrace, neither wanting to break the contact between them. Serena shivers slightly as she feels Bernie’s thumb gently brushing her waist, and mirrors this movement with her own hand on Bernie’s hip, her stomach alive with butterflies and resisting the urge to press herself flush against her friend, to bury her face in her neck, to slip a thigh between hers… 

“You know, I’m really happy you're here,” Serena murmurs, trying with all her energy to keep her eyes from Bernie’s lips. Bernie's face softens, unconsciously pulling Serena closer. 

“Even with my clothes on?” She jokes, with a wink, and Serena rolls her eyes. 

“Yes, even with your clothes on.” She pauses, biting the insides of her cheeks. “I like spending time with you.” 

For a few moments, Bernie seems taken aback by this, as she always does whenever Serena expresses any positive feelings towards her. Then she sighs, her eyes bright. 

“I like spending time with you too,” she says, then grins. “In fact, I’d even go as far as to say I love it.” 

Serena beams at her. “I love it too.” 

Inside, her mind is in overdrive, both with the gravity of what it is they’ve just said, and with the fact that she has just been presented with the perfect opportunity to kiss her. She gazes deep into Bernie’s eyes, questioning her, questioning herself. What is it that she really wants from this woman? She knows she's sexually attracted to her, knows she's in love with her. But does she want it like this? It's the first time they've spent an evening together at home, or anywhere outside of the club, in months. It feels rushed, and Serena’s heart twinges with fear of ruining things too soon. 

But now Bernie is staring at her lips. Serena can feel her breath on her cheek, can smell the sweetness of the pineapple and tomato sauce on her breath, and suddenly it's the most delicious taste in the world. And the way Bernie looks at her… God, if that’s not the most erotic thing she’s ever encountered. Her eyes are dark and heavy, her lips reddened and parted and her cheeks slightly flushed. Serena wonders if she's wet, just from standing in a half embrace like this, as Serena knows she is herself. She wants to whisper in Bernie’s ear, ask her about it, ask for a taste. Or maybe she could work up the courage to touch her herself, to snake her hand down to the front of Bernie’s jeans, watch the look on her face as she dips her fingers inside. Maybe she wouldn't be able to resist, would throw Bernie up onto the kitchen table, whip off her trousers and knickers and eat her until she’s sore in the jaw… 

She blinks hard, coming back to her senses and chastising herself mentally for how often she manages to allow herself to be distracted like that. Bernie’s eyes find hers once more, and Serena lets out a deep breath, relaxing into her touch a little, bringing up a hand to brush Bernie’s fringe from her forehead. Bernie, though her gaze is ravenous, seems to be waiting for Serena to make the move here, and whilst Serena wants nothing more than to snog her senseless, this isn’t the right time. 

With all the tenderness she can manage, she gently turns Bernie’s jaw to the side, and places a lingering, longing kiss on her cheek. 

When she eventually pulls back, she is amused to see Bernie is blushing. She smirks in satisfaction, pleased with herself despite the fact that she couldn’t bring herself to kiss her friend on the lips. Bernie’s mouth is twitching in that way it does when she wants to speak, but can’t quite get the right words out, and Serena gives her hip a fond squeeze. 

“Auntie Serena! Bernie! You’re missing Pointless!” 

They jerk apart abruptly at the sound of Jason’s voice, and suddenly the moment is gone. Dutifully, they clear away the rest of the plates and cutlery before joining Jason in the living room with the remaining bottle of wine. They settle down on the sofa for the rest of the night, their feet just touching as they pretend to be engrossed in the television. However, all either of them can think of is that tiny contact between them, the warmth of one another’s skin and how they want nothing more than to be able to lie against one another, to rest in one another’s arms, and counting down the minutes until they can be at the club again. 

:: 

Sunday morning, and Serena is burning up. It’s now ten days since she last visited the club, and after spending the evening with Bernie on Friday, nothing can seem to satisfy the dull ache between her legs. She knows what she needs. She needs Bernie writhing against her, needs to feel her nipples against her skin through her blouse and her breaths hot in her ear. And she’s nearly there - just twelve more hours to go.

She tries to resist touching herself, thinking it would be better if she waited for Bernie, but she wakes up on Sunday morning with her hand already down her knickers and once it’s there she can’t bring herself to stop, no matter how much she’s begging herself to, It takes barely a couple of minutes until she’s gasping for breath, biting down hard on her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out. Before she can even think about what she’s doing, she brings her fingers to her lips, tasting herself and imagining Bernie’s mouth around them, her sex beginning to throb again as she quickly shucks off her knickers and flips over, entering herself with two fingers and imagining Bernie beneath her, imagining bouncing on Bernie’s lap in desperation as Bernie curls her fingers inside her, touches her in the exact place that makes her come undone. Maybe she would squirt, she thinks as she bucks her hips into her hand, her face pressed into her pillow as she brings her other hand down to her breasts. Maybe she would come so hard and all over Bernie that she would have to get on her knees in front of her and lick every last drop from her quivering thighs. 

With a deeper groan, muffled thankfully by the pillow, she comes again, bucking harder into her hand until she flops down heavily, sweat beading between her shoulder blades.

After another half hour’s snooze, she finally manages to drag herself into the shower, this time managing to resist getting herself off a third time as she freshens herself up for the coming night. She gets dressed, and just as she’s about to start drying her hair she hears a knock at the door. 

Expecting the postman, she rushes down, with no makeup and her hair sticking out in any and all directions, and yanks open the door to see Bernie standing there, clad in all her running gear and panting a little from the exertion. 

“Oh, um, you’re busy,” Bernie stammers, seeing Serena’s damp hair and pale face. “I’ll speak to you later—“

“No, no,” Serena interrupts quickly, patting her hair down. “Come in. Are you alright?” 

Bernie nods as she steps through the door. “Yes, sorry. Just you said to knock on your door sometime, and I was going by the end of your road on my run so I thought I would… I never thought to warn you.” She chuckles nervously. 

“Well, it is only 9am, darling,” Serena says, leading them into the kitchen. “I have to say I am usually in bed at this time. Tea or coffee?” 

“Tea, please. I always forget that I’m an early riser. Can’t get out of the army routine.” 

Serena smiles as she turns around, leaning against the counter as the kettle boils and gesturing to Bernie to sit down. She does so, and Serena feels a rush of love as she so often does when she’s around this woman. She wants to tell her how utterly gorgeous she looks with her windswept hair and tight Lycras, but thinks it inappropriate. Really, she’s overcome with joy that Bernie feels comfortable enough to just drop in like this, thinks they’ve turned a corner. 

“So, how’s life?” Serena asks, in way of making conversation. The kettle clicks, and she turns back around to pour it as Bernie begins to speak. 

“Great, actually. I saw the kids yesterday,” she starts. “Things are going well.” 

She murmurs her thanks as Serena places a steaming mug of tea before her, wrapping her cool fingers around it to warm them up. 

“That’s good to hear,” Serena replies, sitting down herself. “Any news?”

“Cam’s thinking of returning to medicine,” she tells her, and Serena can hear the subtle excitement in Bernie’s voice. “And Charlotte is still clueless but she’s happy. She’s thinking of going travelling with her friends.”

“Ah, that sounds familiar,” Serena smiles, taking a sip of her tea. “Elinor is on her third course change at university now.” 

Bernie sighs. “I think Marcus has a lot to answer for with that one. Always spoilt her rotten whilst I was on tour.”

“That sounds familiar too,” Serena raises an eyebrow. “Minus the tour.” 

Bernie grins. “Now there’s a thought,” she teases, and Serena blushes, knowing that Bernie is imagining her in full battle fatigues and quite enjoying it too. 

“Oh shush, you,” Serena chastises her, loosening her collar a little as she feels herself getting flushed. She quickly changes the subject, and soon they are chatting away as if this is something they’ve done for their whole lives. It always amazes Serena how genuine their friendship is. They are both just completely on the same wavelength. And it’s this too that holds her back. If she were to confess her feelings, and the relationship didn’t work out, would it be really worth losing this? 

Bernie stays for well over an hour before announcing that she has some errands to run that afternoon and should really be leaving. Serena walks her to the door, and they stand there unsurely for several moments before Serena leans forward and presses a quick goodbye kiss to Bernie’s cheek, her heart hammering in the process. Bernie grins sheepishly in return, a slight blush in her cheeks that makes Serena’s knees weak, then jogs off down the driveway with a wave, leaving Serena to count the remaining hours until they meet again at the club tonight. 

:: 

Not for the first time, Serena is shaking as she approaches the club. It’s only natural, she thinks. All the longing and the torment inside her is bubbling up, ready to explode. The bouncer clearly recognises her by now, but still takes the time to quickly go over the house rules. _Cash up front. Hands off the dancers._ She offers him an entirely false grin before wandering inside. 

To her faintest surprise, Bernie is already sat waiting for her next to the bar when she walks in. The other woman stands with a warm smile, rushing over and taking her hand. 

“Are we not going to get a drink?” Serena asks breathlessly as Bernie begins to lead them towards the stairs to their private room. 

“It’s all in there,” Bernie replies, giving her hand a squeeze. “I thought it would be easier.” 

Serena just nods her thanks as they continue on their way. Bernie seems quiet, she thinks, but she can’t think about that. All she can focus on right now is the throbbing between her legs, the slick dampness that began before she’d even left the house, just at the anticipation of what tonight is to bring.

Outside the room, Bernie pauses as usual to slip the guarding bouncer some cash to leave them alone for their visit, and with a smirk he obliges. Bernie turns around and winks at her, wets her lips, and Serena thinks she might melt at her suggestiveness, her hips twitching involuntarily. Her arm aches with how fast Bernie is pulling her down the corridor, and they’re barely through the curtain before she finds herself spun around, pressed hard against the wall as they kiss fierce and sloppy with all the desperation of starved women. Bernie is crowding her space completely, surrounding her as she presses a thigh between Serena’s legs, and the other woman hisses at the contact. She can’t remember the last time she felt as turned on as this. It’s almost as though, rather than quelling an urge, they have opened a whole new floodgate after kissing for the first time. Serena hopes dearly that this never ends. 

She feels Bernie’s hands pushing her coat from her shoulders, and her heart rate doubles. Is Bernie undressing her? She groans against her lips, pushing herself forward so as to pull her arms out of the fabric and allow it to drop into the floor, whining as her over-sensitised nipples brush against Bernie’s front through her blouse. Visions of Bernie removing the rest of her clothes, of her dropping to her knees in front of Serena and slowly undoing her trousers, pushing them down to her knees before ducking forward and licking her into a frenzy, flash through her mind as she bites down on her friend’s bottom lip, prompting a sharp gasp that makes her clit twitch. 

“Sit down,” Bernie pants against her lips, her hands on Serena’s waist spinning them round and walking Serena backwards until she falls down onto the chaise longue with a soft thud. Bernie straddles her, begins gyrating, but Serena can’t wait. 

“Please, Bernie. I need to see you. It’s been too long.” 

Bernie does as she’s told, standing and swiftly discarding her bodysuit. Serena, as always, gapes in awe of the other woman’s body, her mouth watering with the desire to kiss and taste. She sits back, assuming her usual position of legs apart and hands at her sides, and Bernie takes that as her cue to begin, sauntering up to her and perching on her thigh, tilting Serena’s head and moving her lips to her throat. Arching her back, Serena moans, her hips rolling in soft circles, searching for any kind of contact. 

“Patience, darling,” Bernie whispers against the skin, and Serena moans again, her sex burning between her legs. Bernie kisses upwards to her jaw, to her earlobe, hot breaths tickling her ear in the way Bernie knows makes her weak. 

“Oh, God,” Serena hums as Bernie turns to straddle her, presses a hard nipple to Serena’s lip, teasing. It's not even this that turns Serena on the most, she thinks. It's the scent of Bernie’s soft skin, a delightful mix of her perfume be the natural perspiration that clings to her and makes her all the more delicious to Serena. She brushes her lips over the swell of Bernie’s breast, nipping every now and then, waiting for Bernie to beg before taking the nipple in her mouth. 

“Oh my… God, Serena,” she pants, arching her back and running her hands through the other woman's short hair, pulling tight. Serena whimpers, grazing her teeth over Bernie’s nipple and rocking her hips up harder, desperate to feel them grinding together. 

“Bernie…” Serena gasps as she pulls her head back, her lips moving down to her throat once more. Bernie’s hands roam all over Serena’s body, and soon she pushes her to lie back on the chaise longue. 

Serena practically lights up at this, knowing she’s about to get the friction she needs. Her sex is pulsing and throbbing so much it hurts; she’s absolutely soaked through and every inch of her is aching for Bernie’s touch. Her nipples are painfully sensitive against her bra and her breaths come sharp and rapid. She needs Bernie, is desperate for her, and doesn't know how she could possibly get any hotter. Sweat is beading on her chest and forehead as though she’s in a fever, and her groan as Bernie’s lips crash back onto hers is as much about the heat all over her as it is the taste of her tongue. 

“Mmm, Serena…” Bernie moans against her lips as her hands run up the other woman’s sides, making her shiver. She arches her back, their breasts rubbing together as Serena has found to be one of her favourite things about being with another woman. Unconsciously she hooks a leg around Bernie’s, pulling their hips together and grinding. Bernie gasps, moves in rhythm, and Serena could swear she can feel Bernie’s juices through her trousers. 

Bernie’s lips leave her’s now, instead making their way across Serena’s jawline, giving her earlobe a quick nip before moving down her neck, across her collarbones. Bernie’s hand is firmly on Serena’s breast, palming it through her bra and blouse, and Serena is moaning and gasping and writhing beneath her like she's lost control. Bernie pushes the collar of Serena’s blouse aside with the tip of her nose as she leaves a trail of wet kisses there, before moving down the’V’ of it to the soft skin between Serena’s breasts. 

She pauses, her lips still against the skin but her hand stilling. Her fingertips move to Serena’s top button, and Serena is holding her breath. 

“May I?” 

Her voice is gentle and almost incoherent with breathlessness. Serena’s hips twitch, her cunt on fire as she nods, her mouth watering and her knees trembling. Her heart feels ready to burst out of her chest, and the noise she makes as she feels the tickle of Bernie’s fingertips against her skin as she deftly unbuttons her blouse doesn’t even feel as though it comes from her own mouth. She swallows thickly as Bernie pulls the blouse open.

She hesitates then, her finger running a line along the cup of Serena’s bra. 

“It can be unfastened at the front or the back, if you’re wondering,” Serena croaks, her voice hoarse. She hears Bernie’s sharp intake of breath and sees her head bobbing as she nods, her fingers moving to fumble with the clasp.

“Oh, Serena,” Bernie whimpers as she takes in the sight of Serena’s breasts for the first time. She dips her head down, taking a nipple between her lips and rolling it on her tongue. Serena arches her back, moans, squeezes her fists so tight she thinks her palms might bleed to restrain herself from tangling her fingers in Bernie’s hair and holding her there. 

“Bernie… Oh God!” Serena’s back arches so high it’s a wonder she doesn’t break, her mouth hanging open as Bernie moves to the other nipple, sucks hard. Her clit is pulsing and twitching so violently now; she knows she’s close. She lifts her hips up to grind against Bernie’s again in a silent plea for attention. Bernie knows what she means immediately, whispers something incoherent against her breast before beginning to move her hips.

It doesn’t take long. With Bernie’s mouth on her breast, Serena barely needs the friction from Bernie’s thigh to come harder than she thinks she has in her life, and just the sounds and the taste of Serena beneath her bring Bernie crashing over the edge too.

But she doesn’t stop. Bernie maintains her attack on Serena’s nipples, her thigh pressing more insistently between her legs.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Serena,” she wails, moving her lips up to Serena’s throat and arching her back so as to rub their breasts together. Serena practically melts, her nipples stinging both from the sensation and her arousal. She’s about to bring her lips to Bernie’s again, and makes a faint noise of protest when the other woman sits back on her ankles, her thighs spread wide for her to see her glistening sex before her. 

“Touch yourself, Serena,” Bernie breathes, her own hand now at work between her legs. “Fuck yourself with three fingers. Let me watch you fall apart.”

Serena nearly comes in her trousers just at that thought. She unzips them, further than she usually would so that Bernie can see the burgundy fabric of her knickers as she thrusts one hand down them, the other coming to her own breast as she starts to pleasure herself.

“Oh fuck,” both pant simultaneously, their hot breaths coming sharp and uneven. Bernie sits back, spreads her legs wider, allows Serena to see _everything_ as her fingers slowly pump in and out of herself. Serena watches the way Bernie’s cunt stretches to accommodate them, watches them reappearing and disappearing, and feels a gush in her own hand, knows she’s close. 

“Bernie, I’m gonna…” She practically shrieks as her orgasm rips through her, her whole body blushing as she does so and leaving her shivering and weak. Bernie watches this, bites her lips so hard she bleeds, shifts and starts bouncing on her fingers until her breaths halt and her eyes water with pleasure. 

She flops down next to her friend, her face dangerously close to her nipple. They are silent for a few moments, contemplating. Inside, Serena is screaming. Because that wasn’t a dance. Not even close. That was a fuck, she thinks. Yes, there was no genital contact, but still… She thinks back to the previous weeks, sees a pattern, sees that Bernie stopped ‘dancing’ weeks ago, and she panics. 

“Oh, I just remembered,” she begins, sitting up sharply. “I promised Jason I’d pick him up from Celia’s tonight at midnight.” She feigns looking at her watch. “I’m going to be horribly late.”

“Serena?” Bernie murmurs, still hazy from her orgasm. “Let him get a taxi. He’s quite capable—“

“He asked for me. You know what he’s like,” Serena insists, fastening her bra and blouse with haste. She stands, a little wobbly, and goes to pick up her discarded jacket. Bernie follows, quickly slipping on her bodysuit and frowning. 

“Serena, are you okay?” She asks sincerely. Serena nods in perhaps the least convincing manner possible. 

“Absolutely,” she replies, with half a smile, already heading for the door. “I just need to get back.”

Bernie pauses where she’s stood for a few moments, staring at her, before following her out of the door. Serena’s heart is racing; she needs time to think, but Bernie isn’t letting go so easily. 

“Hey.” Bernie grabs Serena’s arm as they step out of the door to the club. It’s raining quite sharply, and they pause to observe it for a moment before turning back to one another. 

“I need to go.” Serena manages to meet Bernie’s eyes, though she suspects her friend sees straight through her facade. She bites the insides of her cheeks, her eyes wandering to an invisible spot on the wall behind Bernie. 

“Slow down,” Bernie murmurs, taking Serena’s cheek in her hand. “What’s the matter?” 

Her voice is so gentle, and Serena leans into her touch a little, her eyes fluttering closed. 

“Nothing,” she promises. “I just need to get back—“

“Bollocks,” Bernie interrupts. Serena widens her eyes in surprise. 

“Excuse me?” 

Bernie laughs, her hand coming down to Serena’s shoulder and her fringe falling into her eyes.

“I don’t believe you.”

Serena stares at her, wide eyed, and Bernie meets her gaze, though her fringe hides half of one eye. 

What are they doing? Serena can’t quite seem to make head nor tail of it. She loves her; that’s a fact. But… Only the other night she didn’t even want to kiss her friend for fear of moving the relationship too fast, but now she’s coming to the thought that perhaps they’ve been in a sexual relationship for months now. So why keep that confined to the club? Just because Serena is still too nervous to openly admit her feelings, and, if she’s honest with herself, is quite comfortable with their relationship they way it is, doesn’t see any hurry to ask for more, doesn’t mean that they can’t have this sexual relationship of sorts and make the most of it. Bernie’s lips are her ruin; she could kiss them every minute of every day and not get bored. And she decides, in that moment, that perhaps she will. 

She reaches a hand out, brushes Bernie’s fringe from her eyes. The other woman is still frowning at her curiously, and she offers her a small smile, her fingertips drifting to her jaw and using it as leverage to press their lips together, again. 

It’s soft and it's sweet - nowhere near the ravenous kisses they had shared upstairs. She feels Bernie shivering beneath her fingertips, and pulls back. 

“You should go inside,” Serena tells her with a sigh, brushing a raindrop from Bernie’s cheek. But the other woman has fire in her eyes, steps into her space again. 

“No.” 

She kisses Serena again, open mouthed and sloppy as she brings her arms up to her waist. Serena allows herself to wrap her hands around Bernie’s shoulders, as they kiss with all the hunger of teenagers but the tenderness of an old age couple. After a minute or two, she works up the courage to slide her fingers into Bernie’s hair, letting out a small sigh of excitement as she does. 

“Oh, Serena,” Bernie moans, nipping at her bottom lip. “That feels so good.” 

Serena grins into the kiss, beginning to feel a little more confident as she tugs on the other woman’s curls. 

“Harder.”

Breaking the kiss, Serena tightens her hold on Bernie’s hair, using it as leverage to expose her neck and place hot, biting kisses there. 

“Mmm.”

She feels Bernie’s hips rocking against hers and pauses, looking up at her friend questioningly. Bernie recognises what she means, nods, and with a giggle grabs Serena’s hand and pulls her down the alleyway leading out onto the main road. It’s risky, but they are just about obscured by the bins at the other end. Bernie pushes Serena up against the wall, slips a thigh straight between her legs as the other woman knots her fingers in her hair once more. 

“I can’t believe…” Bernie hums, her lips on Serena’s throat. “I’m so wet again.” She runs a finger between her legs, beneath her bodysuit, and bucks into her own hand at her touch before lifting it to Serena’s lips. She takes it in her mouth with relish, grinding her hips harder against Bernie’s. _Fuck me_. The words are on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t quite say it. So instead she hooks a leg around Bernie’s calf, hopes this conveys the message. 

It does, and soon Bernie is rutting sharply against her. Her sex burns with the friction of the fabric of her knickers and it’s the best feeling in the world. She’s panting like she’s run a marathon, her moans throaty and deep but for one that comes out as almost a shriek, and Bernie has to cover her lips with hers again to quell the noise. 

“You’re absolutely… absolutely brilliant,” Serena gasps against her friend’s lips, her knees beginning to feel weak with the beginning of her orgasm. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” 

She feels Bernie smiling against her lips, her hips rutting just that little bit deeper. “Me neither,” she whispers. “You are my favourite person in the world. I—“

She halts her movements suddenly, whining and gasping as her orgasm suddenly takes over her and renders her speechless. Serena is close, so close and she thrusts her hand down her trousers, quickly finishing herself off as Bernie’s head falls to her shoulder.

For a few moments they simply rest there, panting. Bernie is the first to speak.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, a laugh bursting from her. “That was…”

“Amazing,” Serena finishes, giggling too. “We really do need to be more care—“

“I don’t think so,” Bernie interrupts, lifting her head with a devilish grin. “I think quite the opposite.” 

Their eyes meet for several moments as Serena contemplates, trying to understand what it is that Bernie means. They should do this in the alleyway more often?

“Well…” She says slowly, her eyes moving back down to Bernie’s lips. “I can’t argue with that.” 

She dips her head forward again to steal a kiss.

“So I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” Bernie asks. Serena frowns at her for a moment, then remembers her lie about having to fetch Jason. 

“Yes, of course,” Serena nods quickly, with a grin. “Always.”

Bernie beams at her, and she thinks her heart might melt. And tonight, when Bernie goes to kiss her goodnight, Serena doesn’t turn her cheek. She kisses her full and lingering on the lips.

“Goodnight.” She offers Bernie a wave as she makes her way to the opposite end of the alley, sad that she’s leaving so early but equally worn out by the night’s events. She needs to think, she knows. But for now all she can concentrate on is Bernie’s lips, the memories if them on hers. And when Bernie had opened her blouse… She squeezes her thighs together as she walks. 

And in the alleyway… Bernie had said that they shouldn’t be so careful, and Serena is still trying to figure out exactly what that meant. She had agreed to it anyway; she thinks there isn’t much that Bernie could ask of her that she wouldn’t be more than willing to do. But still she wonders… Have they crossed that threshold now? Is this still confined to the club?

With an excited grin, she decides it isn’t. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed :)


	11. so hold me closer and don't let go, i'm falling so please just don't let go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for all your wonderful comments on this fic. Honestly, I wouldn't still be writing without them. You all keep me so motivated and thank you so much!
> 
> Sorry this took so long, uni is hectic and honestly isn't looking like improving any time soon, so bear with me!
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter <3

_[Song for this chapter: Tiny Dancer (Hold Me Closer) - DJ Ironik ft. Chipmunk & Elton John](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76BIZ7mHYF4) _

* * *

Despite their best efforts, it’s a couple of days before they manage to see one another again. 

Between gruelling surgeries and endless board meetings, they’re too rushed off their feet to manage more than a quick ‘hello’. Even their text messages dwindle a little. But then it’s Saturday and finally they can breathe again.

_Sorry I’ve not seen you much this week. I’ve missed you. B_

_Same here. Fancy coming over for dinner tonight? S_

_Love to. Want me to bring anything over? B_

Serena smirks to herself, resists typing something crude.

_Just yourself will do. S_

::

The dinner is delicious. Serena cooks them spaghetti and meatballs, with homemade garlic bread to accompany and limoncello gelato to finish. She thinks they might both be too full to move afterwards, tiredness taking over them. But then she thinks of how little time she has managed to spend with Bernie over the past couple of days and forces herself to liven up a little.

Together, they just about manage to clear the table and stock up the dishwasher before collapsing onto the sofa. Jason is watching some documentary about arctic birds, so they are careful not to disturb him as Serena pulls a blanket over their legs. Bernie shuffles a little closer to her so that they can both be properly covered by the soft fabric, and Serena stiffens slightly, casting a worried glance over to her nephew. 

It is something that often plays on her mind, just what Jason’s reaction would be were he to find out about what has been going on between them. She knows instinctively that it would not be in Jason’s nature to take issue with the fact that Bernie is a woman. No, it’s the logistics of their arrangement that worries her most. If Jason were to discover their relationship as it currently stood, how could he possibly be expected to understand that they are not actually a couple? He always knows, Serena thinks with a smile, just when his auntie is avoiding the truth. He would know that Serena is deeply in love with her co-lead, and definitely would not hesitate to voice his opinion on this. And how could she explain herself to Bernie then? Of course, she plans to tell her at some point how she feels, but for now she still does not feel ready. She wants to, but there’s something still holding her back. But if Bernie were to find out from someone else, how would that make her feel? Serena doesn’t think it would go down well. 

Another shuffle beside her, then Bernie’s hand carefully intertwining with her own, beneath the blanket.

It’s such a gentle, innocent action that Serena, despite her concerns, can’t bring herself to move her hand away. She glances over at her nephew, still absorbed in his programme, and decides that this is okay. That is until Bernie yawns, rests her head on her shoulder. She tenses up, holds her breath. 

“This okay?” Bernie murmurs sleepily. Serena bites her lip, her eyes on Jason. How could she explain this? 

She feels Bernie still against her, realises she must have noticed her hesitation. Biting her lip, she squeezes the other woman’s hand. 

“Yes. Yes, of course,” she says gently, her posture softening a little. “I just… Jason.” 

“Oh.” Bernie sits up quickly. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” Serena insists, instantly regretting her words. “I just didn’t want… Just let me get comfortable.” 

Tucking her legs up beneath her, she puts a cushion against the arm of the sofa and rests against it before joining their hands again, tugging Bernie towards her. She does so, and Serena has no problem relaxing into the warmth of the woman by her side. It feels so familiar, she realises. Homely. It’s perfect. 

They watch the documentary in silence, enjoying the peace after their busy week. Serena thinks about all their nights in the club, thinks about the contrast here. She can’t deny that she’s counting down the hours until their next meeting, but it’s nice to just relax for a while, to just _be_ together. 

She feels so warm and relaxed with Bernie in her arms that she allows her eyes to close for a moment, opening them again to find that Jason has gone to bed, and that she must have been sleeping for well over an hour. 

“Bernie,” she whispers, wincing as her neck aches. 

“Five more minutes,” the other woman murmurs, turning and burying her face in Serena’s shoulder. Serena manages a laugh, shrugging her off. 

“Come on, sleepy head. It’s late.”

Bernie sits up with a grunt. 

“I’m going, I’m going.”

Serena laughs, patting down a bit of Bernie’s hair that has decided to stick out at rather a peculiar angle from where she was laid. 

“I wasn’t quite saying that.”

Bernie shakes her head. “No, I need to get back anyway. It’s fine.” She goes to stand and wobbles drowsily. 

“Come on now, have a minute. You could always stay over if you wanted?”

Bernie raises an eyebrow at her automatically and Serena blushes. 

“I mean in the spare room, of course.” 

Serena blushes harder at the smirk Bernie throws her way, but then the other woman stands. 

“Don’t worry about it; I fancy a walk anyway. It’s a lovely night.”

Standing too, Serena casts a glance out of the front window. It’s a dark and cold night, the rain gently pattering at the windows. 

“Nonsense. Get a cab.”

Bernie laughs. “A bit of rain never hurt anyone.” 

“Now that’s definitely not true,” Serena counters, following Bernie to the front door as she goes to put on her coat. 

“I like walking in the rain. When I was training, we did a few weeks in Thailand,” she reminisces, stepping into her shoes. “It was one of the worst tropical storms they’d had in donkeys’ years. Everyone was moaning but I was having the time of my life.”

Serena smiles at her, knowing her eyes have softened with affection but not caring enough to hide it. She could listen to Bernie talking about her career for days on end, she thinks. It’s so fascinating, all the places she’s been. It really makes her heart melt. And the thought of Bernie in her full battle fatigues isn’t a bad one either… 

“Well, I’ll be off then.” 

Bernie smiles at her, rests her hand on her arm, leans in to kiss her on the cheek. But then Serena turns her head, instead captures her lips with her own, savours every second.

It’s only when she hears Bernie’s confused grunt that she realises that Bernie was in fact not intending to kiss her on the lips. 

“Sorry,” she gasps as she pulls away, holding her hand to her mouth. Her cheeks have flushed embarrassingly, and she avoids eye contact. 

“No, no,” Bernie replies, her hand still resting on Serena’s arm. “I, er…” She clears her throat, and Serena looks up to see her blushing too. “I wasn’t complaining.”

She offers Serena that heartwarming, soft smile she loves so much and Serena feels her heart skip a beat. She thinks briefly how ridiculous it is that they’re being like this; they kiss all the time, yet this small accident has thrown them both off kilter. Her eyes, meet Bernie’s and she decides, now, to take a leap.

Holding her breath, she leans into the other woman, grazing her lips against hers torturously before kissing her so slowly, so tenderly, it makes her head spin and her toes tingle and her stomach turn in somersaults. 

She wants to continue, wants to pounce on Bernie and rip her clothes off right there, but… The moment is just too precious. She wants to pocket it, keep it forever. It’s so gentle and pure, her heart fluttering away as if she were fifteen and reliving her first kiss. So after several seconds she forces herself to pull away, her cheeks scarlet and her head light. 

“I…” Bernie tries to speak, finds she’s speechless, and Serena giggles as she finds herself with the same problem. 

“Sorry.” Serena takes a step back, and Bernie drops her hand to interlink their fingers, keeping her close. 

“Never be sorry,” she murmurs, her cheeks rosy. 

“I… I’ll see you at work,” Serena stammers, struggling to keep the elation out of her voice. She has seen this woman naked, has tasted her, has made her come, yet just the most innocent of kisses has left her undone, flustered beyond belief. And it’s the most exhilarating feeling.

“Yes, yes, of course. I’ll see you.” Bernie gives her hand one last squeeze before turning, opening the door, stepping out into the cold night. 

As she watches Bernie disappear down the driveway, Serena has a realisation. _Perhaps this is how it’s meant to be_. The butterflies, the awkwardness, the hesitancy. Just as though they were right at the beginning. And they are, really, Serena thinks. Sure, they’ve crosses boundaries that no friends would ever go near, and then some, but when it comes to romance… this is all new. They’ve never been on a date, never had that etiquette forced upon them. Serena thinks this just might be her problem. She can’t get out of the zone of mind that she is Bernie’s customer, that this is all falsified. She needs to build another relationship with her friend; a romantic one. Just the thought of dating Bernie Wolfe has her heart fluttering all over again, and she knows that she’s figured it out. She knows what she has to do. 

::

That doesn’t stop her, the next time she enters the club, from pouncing on Bernie as though her life depends on it, devouring her, moaning and writhing and gasping and groaning like a woman gone mad. She just can’t resist her. When Bernie looks at her in that way… But still she manages to keep her hands to herself, always. That’s the golden rule and until Bernie tells her otherwise, that’s what she’ll stick to.

::

Outside of the club, however, those rules don’t fully apply, although she never quite lets herself go as far as she’d like. She can thread her fingers through Bernie’s hair, run her hands over her back, over her ass, but any more than that she refuses to allow herself, even if Bernie is driving her absolutely wild. 

And that, she does. 

Not that Serena is particularly complaining. 

She had intended to keep to her resolve, to keep their physical relationship to the club and to slowly build a romantic relationship with Bernie out of it, but… 

“Ah, I wondered where you’d gotten to!” 

Serena starts as Bernie appears before her in the peace garden. It had been a long shift, and she needed some fresh air, so elected to sit on the bench out here for a bit, enjoying the still of the evening. 

Bernie comes and plonks herself down next to her, fishing out a fag and her lighter. 

“It’s starting to slow down a bit in there,” she tells Serena as she lights up, casting a scathing glance at the new ‘no smoking’ sign that had recently appeared by there and was rarely enforced. Serena smiles tiredly. 

“Thank God.”

They sit quietly for a few minutes, Bernie finishing her fag and Serena taking in the comfortable silence. 

“You’re shivering.”

Before she knows what is happening, Bernie is shucking off her hoodie and wrapping it around Serena’s shoulders. 

“You don’t have to…”

She stops as she realises how close Bernie is to her, how close her face is to hers. Her breath stops, her heart skipping and her stomach dropping. Bernie is _so close_. It’s been such a long day, she thinks. She’s so _tired_. 

So she kisses her. 

Right there out in the open, with out a thought as to who might be around. She kisses her desperately, eliciting the most wonderful of whimpers from her friend. They kiss, and they kiss and kiss and kiss until Serena’s pager goes off, her hand quickly dropping from Bernie’s hair and Bernie’s from beneath her blouse. 

And that’s how it starts. 

Two days later, they find themselves in the supply closet at the same time. A complete accident, of course. But before they know it, Bernie has Serena pinned up against the wall, a fountain of whispered affections gushing from her mouth as she showers Serena with wet, hot kisses that go straight between her legs and leave her in absolute ruins for the remainder of the day. 

And then there’s their home life. Bernie still comes round for tea, yes, and Serena intends with all of her heart for it to remain civil. But then Jason goes to bed and one thing leads to another and before they know it Bernie is straddling her on the sofa, both of their blouses undone and chests flushed with the heat of their kisses. 

“Have dinner with me.”

The words burst out of Serena on a gasp, without even meaning to say it. She freezes and Bernie pulls back to look at her, frowning. 

“You mean Friday? I already agreed—“

“No, no,” Serena interrupts quickly, before she loses her nerve. “I mean a _dinner,_ dinner. Proper dinner. Out. You know, three courses, bottle of wine, fancy restaurant, no Jason. What do you think?”

She holds her breath at Bernie’s pause.

“You mean a date?”

Her heart stops. It fills her with fear to admit to this, but, finally, she thinks she might almost be ready to take the leap.

“Yes, a date.” 

The moments in which it takes Bernie to respond are perhaps the longest in Serena’s life. And when she replies that she’d love to, leans down to kiss Serena again as a confirmation, Serena gets such a rush that she has to break away, relieved laughter bubbling out of her and leaving them both in a giddy heap on the sofa. 

::

Work is a chore. For the most part, they spend it either avoiding one another’s eyes or sending each other dirty looks from across the room. On occasion, Bernie looks at Serena with such a hunger that it almost breaks her, almost has her grabbing her by the arm and dragging her to the nearest supply cupboard to have her wicked way with her. 

The only thing that gets her through is the thought of their date next week, and the fact that she can have Bernie later. But her mood is destroyed when she remembers that in fact, they will not be attending the club tonight, rather Oliver Valentine’s birthday drinks at Albie’s instead. It sets her on edge for the remainder of the day. And when Bernie approaches her at the nurses’ station later that day, she doesn't even look up, preoccupied with her bad mood. 

“What time are you thinking of arriving tonight?” She asks. Serena blinks. 

“I'm sorry?”

“Albie’s. Valentine’s birthday. What time are you getting there?” 

She pauses for a reply for the several moments it takes Serena’s disgruntled brain to process this, one eyebrow arched. 

“Oh, yes. I was going to go about eight o'clock. Yourself?”

“I’ll make it about then too, then. Do you fancy sharing a taxi?”

Serena stops, staring at her for a moment, her eyes wide with the unintentional implication. Bernie realises this and holds up her hands. 

“Oh! I didn't mean—“ 

“I know you didn't,” Serena interrupts with half a reassuring nod. “That would be marvellous. Thank you.” 

“Great.” Bernie breathes out a relieved sigh, running a hand through her hair. She gazes at Serena, who has gone back to her paperwork. “Are you alright?” 

Serena frowns at her. “Of course. Why?”

“You seem a little off, that's all.”

Their eyes meet for a few moments, before Serena gives up and runs a hand over her face. 

“I just really don’t have the energy for tonight. There are far more interesting ways I could be spending my time.” Bernie catches her eye at this and grins, and Serena looks down with a blush. 

“Well,” Bernie begins, standing a little closer. “We could always find some way to…” She brushes her fingers across the small of Serena’s back, making her shiver. “To entertain ourselves.” 

Serena’s eyes widen, her mouth opening slightly, her whole body heating up at the feeling of Bernie’s delicate fingers through her blouse. Holding her breath, she turns to look her friend in the eye and her stomach drops at the pure lust she sees. It’s all she can do not to pounce on her right there.

“Trauma call!” 

They jerk apart, Bernie rushing off with a wink as Serena gathers herself, cursing her body for reacting so intensely to Bernie’s touch. All she wants to do is slope off to the toilets and sort out the mess that Bernie has make of her underwear, but then another patient is rushed in and she’s off, forcing herself to forget the burning between her thighs and to concentrate on saving the life before her.

::

The night at Albie’s starts slowly. Somehow, hey manage to arrive before most of the others, so the first half an hour is spent sat at the bar listening to Fletch moan about Mikey getting in trouble at school, again, and Evie’s increasing interest in boys too old for her. They listen dutifully, nodding in all the right places, resisting gazing at one another instead. 

Before long, the rest of the party arrive, and so they manage to evade Fletch’s rambling and instead socialise with some of their other colleagues. They end up in different circles, Bernie chatting to her old friends on Keller and Serena discussing some new equipment with Jac Naylor. They can't help but glance at one another across the room, though, both looking away quickly when their eyes meet for fear of blushing. And so most of the night continues like that. 

Around ten, when the party is just getting in full-swing, Serena finds herself sat on one of the sofas in the corner of Albie’s with Ric and Jac, watching in amusement as the rest of the party lines up what seems to be their eleventh round of shots. With a heavy sigh, she stares down into her glass of Shiraz and is just wondering where on earth Bernie has gotten to when she feels a hand on her shoulder.

“Hello.”

She can tell instantly by the slurring of Bernie’s words and the soppy grin on her face that her friend is ridiculously drunk. Swaying slightly, she perches on the arm of the sofa next to Serena, invading her space. Her stomach swarming with butterflies, Serena casts a wary glance over to Ric and Jac, who are watching with raised eyebrows. 

“Could you sit any closer, Ms Wolfe?” Ric asks with suspicion, an amused twinkle in his eye. Serena blushes, looking up at Bernie with alarm and squirming slightly at her hand on her shoulder.

Bernie pauses for a moment, holding his gaze. “These low sofas are murder for my back,” she tells him eventually. “Much more comfortable for me sitting up here.” 

Serena’s instant reaction is a frown, and she bites her tongue, resisting the urge to comment on how her back never seems to be a problem for them _elsewhere_. Ric seems to accept this excuse and nods.

“My bad.” 

He sips his drink and Serena does the same, eyeing Bernie curiously. 

“You’re very drunk,” she comments with a smirk. 

“Am not.”

She grins. “Yes you are. How many of them shots have you had?” 

“Not many.”

“And how many is that?” 

Bernie looks at her, fighting the cheeky grin on her lips at Serena’s disapproving look. “I think I lost count at eight.” 

“For goodness sake.”

“They’re only those fruity ones! There’s no alcohol in them.” She hiccoughs.

“Clearly.” Serena raises an eyebrow, pursing her lips but then breaking into smile as Bernie grins at her. 

They hear a cough and realise that they have been lost in one another’s gaze for several moments too long now, and Serena quickly turns away, draining her glass. 

“Ladies’ room,” she says by way of explanation, standing up and discarding her glass on the table between them. She can see by the glint in Ric’s eye that she will be grilled on this later, and heaves a deep sigh as she pushes through the door to the bathroom, already trying to work out in her head what she could possibly say to shut him up.

She’s just closing the door to her cubicle when a hand appears around the side of it.

“Hang on.”

Her stomach flipping, she allows Bernie to push her way into the cubicle. 

“What are you doing?”

“I wanted to see you,” Bernie grins, flicking the lock on the door behind her. She takes a step towards Serena, crowding her against the wall of the cubicle. 

“You can see me… out there.” Serena’s words are interrupted by Bernie’s lips brushing her neck, inhaling deep the scent of her perfume and letting out a small growl that sends Serena dizzy. 

“Yes, but…” Bernie murmurs into Serena’s ear. “Could I do _this_ …” She presses her body flush against Serena’s. “Or _this_ …” Serena lets out a soft whimper as Bernie’s thigh slips between hers. 

“Or _this_ ,” Bernie whispers against Serena’s lips, and the other woman lunges forwards, their lips crashing together furiously. Before she realises it, Serena has knotted her fingers in Bernie’s hair, has pushed her up against the opposite wall and is devouring her as if her life depends on it. She hears a low, satisfied chuckle rumble in Bernie’s chest and presses herself harder against her, letting out a sharp breath as their tongues touch. 

Then she stops, realising herself, fear and self-consciousness turning her stomach cold as her fingers loosen in Bernie’s hair. She can’t quite believe what she’s doing. Usually, during their encounters at the club, she daren’t let herself dream of touching her, wouldn’t want to disrespect her boundaries like that. Here, however, there has been a shift in their dynamic. The rules have changed. She doesn’t know where the boundaries now lie, doesn’t know how far she can go, how far she _should_ go. Is it the best way to address their feelings - snogging like teenagers in a pub toilet? 

God, just the thought of what they are doing makes her knees weak. Bernie seems to barely notice her pause, instead uses the lull to push Serena backwards up against the opposite wall of the cubicle. She moans loudly as Bernie sucks on her bottom lip, slips her tongue into her mouth again with such ferocious hunger... 

“Oh, Serena,” Bernie whispers in between kisses. “Oh, your lips. I don’t think I could ever... ever taste them enough... You’re delicious.” She nips gently at her bottom lip and Serena whimpers, her hips pushing forwards against her friend’s. Bernie responds eagerly, her hands moving to grasp Serena’s arse and grind them together, 

“Bernie...” Serena gasps, arching into her, her own hands wrapped around her shoulders. Arousal is burning between her legs, impossibly heightened by the thrill of their situation, and before she can think she is grinding down on her friend’s thigh. Bernie bites at her lip, lifting her knee to press more insistently at the other woman’s centre and eliciting the most desperate of cries. 

In response, Bernie dips her hands below the waistband of Serena’s jeans, lifting her until Serena wraps one leg around her. 

Then, as she feels Serena’s hips rocking against her, she seems to get a rush of courage. She moves one hand from behind Serena to the front of her trousers, rests it over her heat, lets out a shaky breath at Serena’s resulting whine. 

“Do you want...” She stammers, still struggling to tear herself away from Serena’s lips. “I can... Can I...?” 

Serena pauses, looks at her through hooded eyes, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed and her breathing rapid. This is... Her aroused brain can’t process it, can’t work out what she wants. She knows she wants Bernie, but does she want her like this? The burning between her thighs suggests yes, but there’s something holding her back. She wants her first time with Bernie to be on equal terms, to above all be about their love, to have _feeling_. Is this really the right way to achieve that, when neither of them are entirely sure what they are doing? 

Her thoughts are interrupted as they hear the clatter of somebody else entering the toilets. They both freeze, Bernie resting her forehead against Serena’s and trying desperately to steady her breaths, waiting for the other person to leave them in peace again. 

“Serena?”

They stare at one another in panic as Morven calls. Bernie nudges Serena to speak.

“Yes?” Her voice comes out as a squeak, and she clear her throat quickly. “Yes? What’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothing. Just Fletch and Raf are leaving and wonder if you want to share a taxi? Seeing as we’re all off in the same direction.” 

Serena looks at her watch, raises her eyebrows when she realises they have been in here well over half an hour, smiles to herself when she thinks how easily time passes when she’s in Bernie’s company. 

“Yes, of course. We’ll be out in a second.” She feels Bernie’s grip tighten, see her jaw drop and her eyes widen. “ _I’ll_ be out in a second.”

“Have you seen Ms Wolfe recently? They were talking about giving her a lift as well.” 

Bernie shakes her head quickly, miming smoking a cigarette. 

“No, no. I think she said she was going for a smoke, or to buy some cigarettes. Have a look outside.” 

Morven pauses, and for a moment Serena thinks she’s busted. 

“Right. I’ll go see. They’ve ordered the cab for fifteen minutes.”

“Good. Thanks, Morven.” 

They hold their breath until they hear the door click closed, before collapsing against one another in giggles. 

“‘We’ll be out in a minute!’” Bernie splutters, shaking her head. 

“Do you think she realised?” Serena asks, genuine concern in her tone despite the laughter. 

“I hope not. The whole hospital will know by the time we get in that taxi if she did.”

Serena bites her lip, resting her forehead on Bernie’s shoulder in embarrassment. “Oh, Lord help us.”

“I think we’re beyond that,” Bernie chuckles, wrapping an arm around Serena’s shoulders. “Anyway, speaking of getting rumbled, you should get back out there. If the taxi’s due in fifteen minutes and I’m waiting in here five minutes after you go then we’d better look lively.” 

“You’re right.” Begrudgingly, Serena steps back from Bernie, immediately missing the contact between them. “Do I look okay?”

Bernie smiles at her, a soft, warm smile that illuminates her entire face and makes Serena’s insides turn to jelly. 

“You look beautiful.”

Bernie says the words with such sincerity that Serena has to bite the insides of her cheeks to stop herself from tearing up. She wants to thank her, wants to kiss her, wants to tell her she loves her, but the emotion in her throat renders her speechless. She could just kiss her, but she feels the moment for all that has passed. It’s frustrating, she thinks, how restricted she is by their arrangement. As a lover she would have the right to kiss Bernie whenever she pleased, to say good morning or goodnight, or simply for the hell of it, but as they are she doesn’t feel she has that privilege. 

“I should get going.”

Quickly she unlocks the door, listening for a second to make sure that no one else is there before returning out to the bar. She feels heavy, suddenly, exhaustion both emotional and physical beginning to take hold. Back at the table she lies to the others that she has texted Bernie and she will be back soon. It’s exhilarating and tiring in equal measure, this constant hiding. Serena loves the fact that they share this secret, her inner teenager thriving on the thrill. On the other hand, she would like nothing more than to be able to hold Bernie’s hand in front of their friends. It’s a dilemma she often ponders, but still can’t bring herself to address. 

“Sorry about that. Off licence was closed.”

She turns around to smile conspiringly at her friend as she returns to the table, and she’s barely sat down before Raf gets a call to say the taxi has arrived. They avoid eye contact for the journey home, both worried that they will give themselves away if they interact. When the cab finally pulls up outside Bernie’s flat, all Serena gets is a quick squeeze on the arm goodbye. 

It’s not until she gets home herself that she sees she has a message from Bernie. 

_Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. You’ve left me in quite a state ;) B_

Serena bites her lip, her cheeks flushing. 

_I could say the same. However will I manage the wait? S_

She grins to herself at her implication, hanging up her coat and pouring herself one final glass of Shiraz before bed. Jason is already in bed, so she keeps the television on low volume as she settles down on the sofa with her wine in one hand and her phone in the other, awaiting Bernie’s reply. 

_You could always talk to me about it. B_

Serena frowns at the message, setting her wine down on the coffee table. 

_Talk to you about what? S_

She’s starting to think Bernie has fallen asleep when she gets the next message. 

_About how you’ll ‘manage’… B_

Serena can’t help a small gasp leaving her lips, her eyes widening and chest pounding at the suggestion. She thinks that she shouldn’t do this, but the throbbing between her thighs tells her otherwise, and before she can stop herself she’s tapping out her reply. 

_I think that ought to work both ways, don’t you? S_

_Of course. It’s only fair ;) B_

Serena smirks at the screen and is considering her response when another text comes through. 

_I’ll start by letting you know that I’m typing this with my left hand… B_

She can’t help but laugh at this, takes another sip of wine before replying. 

_Oh really? And what might your right hand be doing? S_

Loosening her collar, she relaxes back into the sofa, her hips moving softly as she feels that familiar burn between her legs. 

_Currently on my breast. Just remembering what your lips feel like. B_

Serena groans, her own hand creeping up her blouse. 

_Mine too. Your lips feel so good. S_

_And yours. You taste so good, Serena. B_

She allows her eyelids to flutter closed, imagining Bernie’s warm mouth on her nipple. 

_Do you think it’s normal for post-menopausal women to be this constantly horny? S_

_It’s hard to imagine how anyone could not be, when you’re around. B_

_I can’t remember anyone ever turning me on more. S_

She gasps as she pinches her nipple, imagines Bernie’s teeth.

_What are you wearing? S_

_Absolutely nothing. B_

_Makes a change. S_

_What about you? B_

_Same clothes as in Albie’s. Can even still smell your perfume on them. S_

_You like? B_

Serena smiles, trying to think of anything she doesn’t like about this woman. She shakes her head at how madly in love she must be, beyond all reasonable thought. She thinks they shouldn’t be doing this; things could get out of hand all too quickly. But, as she palms herself over her trousers, she decides that may be exactly what they need, decides she going to push her luck as far as she can go. 

_I do. In fact, one of my favourite things to do after I’ve been with you is smell you on my clothes whilst I touch myself. It’s a very pleasurable pastime. S_

She takes another sip of Shiraz as she waits.

_Do tell me more ;) B_

A pause, considering her words.

_I don’t think I ever told you about the first night I came to see you. I barely made it up the stairs before I was touching myself, remembering how you felt against me. You made me so wet it was almost embarrassing. Could you smell it? Just thinking about that first night now I can feel myself getting wetter. S_

Her eyes widen as she rereads the message, biting her lip as she presses send. It’s a while before she gets a reply.

_Fucking hell, Serena. I have to say you’ve quite rendered me speechless. B_

Serena smirks, her free hand returning to her breast. She enjoys the sensation for a few moments, picturing Bernie at home doing the same. Just as she’s about to reply, she gets another message.

_I was the same, you know. Part of the reason I kept my knickers on that first night was so that you wouldn’t see just how much you turned me on. After you left I locked myself in the toilets and fucked myself so hard I barely managed to stay standing. You left me in such a mess, Serena. I was in such a state I considered leaving work early, but I knew that if I did I wouldn’t be able to stop myself turning up on your doorstep. B_

Serena moans aloud, rocks her hips. 

_Now there’s an idea. I have to say I would have been completely at your mercy. You could have done anything you liked to me ;) S_

It briefly flashes through Serena’s mind that they are crossing a boundary, but she immediately doesn’t care. She’s too into this to consider anything but Bernie’s words to her.

_I would have made you come so many times, my name would be all you could speak. I’d taste you over and over until I felt you come in my mouth, then I’d keep going, and keep going, and keep going until you begged me for mercy. B_

_Oh, that’s so hot. I often imagine how you would feel around my tongue. One my favourite daydreams involves you riding my face as I fuck you with my mouth. I want to lap up every last drop of you. S_

_You’re going to make me come and I haven’t even started touching myself yet. You have quite a way with words, Ms Campbell. B_

Serena groans, her fingers moving to her trouser button. 

_Touch yourself, Bernie. Imagine my fingers inside you. S_

_I always do. Every time. B_

Serena gasps as she dips her fingers into her pants, feeling herself dripping wet and almost too sensitive to touch. She allows herself to drift off, to imagine Bernie on her fingers, to imagine all the moans and groans and whimpers she would elicit, to imagine how she would feel as she came around her fingers. Her phone buzzes again.

_Tell me what you’re thinking about. B_

_I’m thinking about you around my fingers. Thinking how it would feel to make you come. S_

She curls her fingers inside herself, moans just a little too loud, bites the insides of her cheeks to stop herself crying out.

Then her phone starts buzzing again, and she sees Bernie’s name flash up. 

“Hello?”

“Sorry, Serena, I couldn’t... couldn’t keep typing. I...” Bernie’s breaths are ragged as she speaks. Serena lets out a whimper, fingers pumping harder in and out of herself as she clutches the phone to her ear with her free hand. 

“God, Bernie. You’ve... you’ve got me in such a state.” Her breath hitches as she hits a particularly sensitive spot, listening to Bernie’s resulting moan. 

“Serena... Serena, I’m... God, can you hear what you do to me? I’m burning, I... Listen to what you do to me.”

Serena feels a fresh gush of wetness as she listens to the sounds of Bernie pleasuring herself, the sound of her fingers gliding against slick heat as Bernie holds the phone to her cunt. It’s so raw, so unexpurgated, so fucking filthy that Serena thinks she could faint. 

“Did you hear that? That’s your fingers, Serena. Mmh, you feel so good.”

Bernie’s voice is pure sex, low and sultry and unashamed as Serena listens to her fucking herself, her own sex beginning to contract. 

“Bernie, I’m close. I’m so, so close.”

She hears Bernie’s breath hitch, her voice getting faster along with her thrusts. 

“Come for me, Serena. I’m inside you. I’m going to make you come.” 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Bernie,” Serena pants, feeling herself building. “I… God, to feel you around my fingers…”

“Fuck me, Serena,” Bernie wails, her breaths ragged. “I’m coming… You’re making me come… This is all you.”

Those words tip Serena over the edge, coming hard around her own fingers, imagining it’s Bernie that she can feel clenching and gushing. She pants through it, biting her lip so hard she can taste blood in an effort to keep herself quiet as she hears the familiar hitching of Bernie’s breaths and knows she’s coming too. It’s sensory overload, and she feels dizzy as she starts to relax, getting her breath back.

“Oh my God, Bernie,” she whispers, her voice hoarse. She hears the other woman’s smile.

“I know.”

“That was—“

“I know.”

They sit quiet for several moments, both recovering from what has just happened. It isn’t long before Serena’s mind is going into overdrive. They have just had phone sex, both whispered their desires into each other’s ears in the most explicit of terms and now… Her heart hammers, her stomach flipping as she wonders what the implications of this on their relationship at the club would be. Now they have said these things to one another, have dared to imagine, would this mean that Bernie would finally take it upon herself to whip Serena’s trousers off, to fuck her like she had described on the phone? Serena can’t help the small whimpers that escapes her lips at this thought, and she curses herself for finding herself throbbing with arousal again. What if this is it? It’s wrong, the thought crosses Serena’s mind. Bernie knows only a fraction of what she feels for her, thinks that their relationship is entirely based on encounters like this, and that’s wrong, she reminds herself. But how on earth is she expected to resist? 

They do have their date next week, she remembers. So perhaps all is not lost. She can still keep that side of their relationship, their budding romance. She can still wine and dine Bernie and hope to high heaven that she can get across even a fraction of the pure devotion she feels for her. 

In the meantime, however…

She hears Bernie’s breaths evening out, realises she’s falling asleep.

“Bernie?”

“Hmm?”

She smiles fondly. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow. Go to sleep.” 

Bernie grunts in reply, the alcohol in her system clearly taking over. “Night night.” 

Serena feels warm with affection as she hangs up the phone, taking a moment to recover herself before making her own way to bed too. Not that she could ever sleep, the possibilities their future now holds making her mind whirr and her heart tremble.

::

The entire following day, Serena’s stomach is alive with butterflies at the thought of going to the club that night. She has decided that she wants this, wants to feel Bernie inside her, doesn’t care about anything else. And the looks Bernie is giving her… 

“Still on for tonight?” 

“Of course.”

They exchange a glance that makes Serena melt. Bernie notices this, rakes her eyes up and down Serena’s body hungrily and makes her knees tremble. 

“I’ll look forward to it.”

::

Later that night, Serena can barely breathe as she gets herself ready for the club. She has a long bath in an effort to relax herself and washes her hair with her favourite shampoo, reserved only for special occasions. She takes her time in applying her makeup, picks out her most flattering dress, even goes to the effort of fiddling about with a suspender belt and stockings rather than the tights she would usually wear. 

She’s just applying the last coat of lipstick when her phone rings. 

“Hello?”

“Serena, it’s me.”

She smirks. “I’m just about to leave now. I won’t be long.” 

“No, Serena. You can’t come to the club tonight.”

Serena freezes, frowning. “What? Why, what’s happened?” 

“Just don’t—“ She hears a voice in the background as Bernie pauses, but can’t make out what they say. “I’ve got to go. You can’t come here any more. Promise me.” 

“What? Are you not even going to explain—“

“Listen to me, Serena. _I don’t want you to come here anymore._ Okay?”

“But what—“

She hangs up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed! :)


	12. they come, they come, to build a war between us (part one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst angst angst angst angst
> 
> Sorry for this taking so long and sorry for it being so short, I promise the second part will be livelier! I think this is the first chapter that is entirely plot, so make what you will of that!
> 
> Thank you all so so much for all your support. I really wouldn't keep writing without it, so keep nagging me to get it done! ;) 
> 
> Enjoy!

_[Song for this chapter: Don't Dream It's Over - Crowded House](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9gKyRmic20) _

* * *

 

Serena doesn’t sleep a wink. Uncertainty and fear claws at her stomach, her mind whirring with possible situations, Bernie’s words repeating in her head over and over.

_I don’t want you to come here anymore._

She turns over, buries her face in her pillow, biting the insides of her cheeks to stop the tears that threaten to fall. What could she mean? Well, the meaning was quite apparent, but why? Bernie had seemed alright at work, hadn’t she? If it was anything to do with their actions the night before, surely she would have given her some sort of indication whilst they were working that things weren’t alright, that she had overstepped the mark…

But maybe she did overstep the mark. Maybe they went too far. Bernie was very drunk, after all. It definitely surpassed what they usually do. Or maybe Serena has scared her off, has come on too strong and Bernie doesn’t want that. Or maybe Bernie just doesn’t feel the same. Perhaps it was only sex to her, and now she realises that Serena’s feelings run deeper she has decided that it’s best to keep distance, so as not to lead her on. Her stomach drops as she realises that this is probably the most plausible explanation. 

The loss she feels is immeasurable. Not only is she heartbroken, but she has lost the best friend she’s ever had. All because she just couldn’t resist, couldn’t control herself enough to keep that professional boundary. She thinks back to when she found out about Edward’s affair, thinks that it didn’t hurt half as much as this. Edward was dispensable to her, always. The only thing that truly tied her to him was Elinor. Bernie, however, feels different. Not only is she her best friend, her love, but her partner, her work colleague. The run a department together, for goodness sake. Their relationship held so much. How on earth was she supposed to just carry on as if nothing had happened?

But, she realises, wiping her eyes, she must find a way to carry on. She must force herself to detach, to move on quickly and cleanly in order to get on with what was really important to her: saving lives. Wiping her eyes, she forces the tears back, quashes the lump in her throat expertly. Tomorrow will be another day, she tells herself.

She still doesn’t sleep.

::

Getting ready for work the following day, Serena is filled with the most sickening sense of foreboding that it almost makes her want to take the day off. Her limbs feel heavy as she applies her makeup, blowdries her hair. She can’t force herself to eat her breakfast, or even to finish her cup of tea. 

_Come on, Campbell. Chin up, eyes forward, shoulders back. Move on._

The drive to work is pleasant, thanks to Jason keeping her company, and by the time she arrives she feels in better spirits. Something feels off, though, as she walks in. Something in the atmosphere, a certain tension, a discomfort. She puts it down to her changed feelings about Bernie, and carries on. 

She hangs up her coat, rolls up her sleeves, and sets to work. Bernie isn’t in until lunchtime that day, so she allows herself a little breathing space, catching up on her paperwork now so that she won’t have to spend too much time with her in the office later. By the time she’s leaving for her first elective at quarter to twelve, she feels much more confident that she can get through this.

She rolls her eyes as she sees the amount of people crowded around the nurses’ station, clearing her throat pointedly as she approaches for them all to get back to work. 

“Fletch, I’m going to prep for my elective now. Is Dr Digby around?”

He nods, passing her a chart. 

“She was here a minute ago. Your elective’s all admitted but just to let you know his BP is slightly elevated.”

She scans over the chart before passing it back to him. 

“I remember him. It’ll just be stress related. Check him again in fifteen minutes and if it’s raised any more then get Dr Digby or Ms Wolfe to give him the once-over. If Ms Wolfe ever decides to show up, that is.” She couldn’t resist a little jibe. 

“Will do,” he nods, before pausing. “By the way, speaking of Ms Wolfe—“ Serena frowns at him as he stops suddenly, looking behind her. “Never mind. Morning, Ms Wolfe.”

She curses herself as her stomach drops and her heart skips a beat, knowing that she will now have to speak to her colleague. She turns around, takes in the sight of the woman she loves and her resolve falters, tears stinging at the back of her eyes. Love has always been her weakness, she knows. All rationality is thrown out the window as soon as her heart is involved. But this time she’s trying so desperately to be different, to keep her distance. 

It helps that Bernie can’t seem to keep eye contact with her today. 

“Good morning, Ms Wolfe,” Serena says in her most official tone, usually reserved only for business acquaintances. She turns back around to the desk quickly, shuffling some papers and not even hearing Bernie’s reply. 

“Well — look at the time! That elective won’t prep itself. Must dash!” She witters on, clutching her file with white knuckles to keep her nerve before shuffling past the baffled army medic and off to theatre. 

::

The surgery is a gruelling one, lasting for a long five and a half hours and taking up every last ounce of energy she has for the day. By the time she’s out and debriefing her team, Bernie Wolfe is the last thing on her mind. 

That is until she sees Bernie across the ward, poring over a patient’s file, her forehead creased in concentration and her fingers playing with a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and decides, for the first time, that she wants to hear what Bernie has to say, no matter how painful that may be. 

“Bernie,” she starts, making the other woman jump as she appears behind her. “Can we talk?”

Bernie tenses, quickly snapping shut the file and grasping it with both hands. “Sorry, I’m really busy,” she rushes, already beginning to walk away. 

“Look, Bernie, about the other night—“

“Just leave it, Serena.” 

She keeps her head down and her face hidden from Serena as she strides away. Tensing as she feels the eyes of the ward upon her, Serena bites back her tears and shuts herself in the office for the remainder of the shift. 

::

_I’m over her, I’m over her._

Serena repeats the words under her breath as she enters the lift the next morning, feeling herself tremble at just the thought of casting eyes on Berenice Wolfe. Oh, how she wishes she could forget, could just focus her mind on something else. But she really thought they were getting somewhere, before this. And she couldn’t have been imagining all of it, could she? Bernie’s enthusiasm, her charm, her care. Surely she wouldn’t be so cold as to fake all that just to get in her knickers? 

Part of her feels indignant at Bernie’s behaviour. After all this time, the least she deserved was an explanation. All that has happened between them... it makes her stomach lurch. Could she really have been so blind? 

She decides that perhaps she could. She’s in love with her, and knows all too well just how that can alter a persons entire perception of the world around them. Perhaps she was wrong to trust her judgement. 

Her day begins in surgery, thankfully, so she has little problem avoiding Ms Wolfe there. Then she is called up for a vascular consult on another ward and is tied up with that for a while after, working with the patient’s consultant on the best way forward. After that she takes an early lunch, decides to go to a rather lovely sandwich bar just outside the grounds rather than running the risk of bumping into Bernie in Pulses. 

As she sits tucking into her baguette, it crosses her mind how ridiculously slack her staff have been behaving over the past couple of days, and makes a vow to confront them on it upon her return. Communication breakdowns were the last thing she wanted, and with her and Bernie on questionable terms too, she needed to ensure that her team were at the top of their game. It worries her, though, how her and Bernie might work together after this. Would they ever be able to regain their professional spark after all that had happened? 

Would Bernie even want to try? 

Luckily the buzz of her pager brings her out of that spiral of thinking. She swallows the last of her baguette, hoping with all of her heart that this wasn’t a big trauma call, where her and Bernie would be forced to work together. She’s not ready to acknowledge their forsaken professional relationship just yet. 

To her relief, by the time she arrives back the trauma patient is already in theatre, with Raf and Bernie taking the job. She settles on working her way through the new admissions and shipping out all who were fit to go. 

Late in the afternoon, she is examining a rather nasty pressure ulcer when she spots Bernie return to the ward out of the corner of her eye. She fights to keep her focus on the wound, which she thinks will probably require surgery. Politely excusing herself from the patient, she makes to find Raf for a second opinion. 

“Fletch, have you seen Raf around?” She interrupts his conversation with Morven and two other nurses, purposely avoiding looking at Bernie, who is filling in some paperwork on the other side of the desk behind them. 

“Not recently. I think he’s just finishing up in theatre,” Fletch replies. She nods, turning away. 

“Ms Campbell, did you know Ms Wolfe is a stripper?” 

The ward is hit with silence. Serena stops dead in her tracks, hearing Morven’s shockingly spiteful tone. She looks at Bernie, see her head bowed and her shoulders hunched, and suddenly it all makes sense. Someone from the hospital must have seen her at the club, that night, and she didn’t want them to see Serena too. And now she was the talk of the hospital. Morven’s tone, the way she spat out the word _stripper_ , made Serena’s skin crawl, thinking of the judgement, the bullying Bernie must be facing. And she had tried to protect her from it, was facing this all on her own. 

In a split second, she decides not to accept that. 

“I did know, yes, and I have to say she’s rather a good one at that. I should know, I’ve seen her enough times.” She offers them a satisfied smile, seeing the shock on their faces. “Ms Wolfe, could I get a second opinion on this infected pressure ulcer in bay three, please?” 

Bernie looks up at her in shock, her mouth hanging open. “Um, yes. Yes, of course,” she stammers, closing the file in front of her. Serena turns on her heels, making her way back toward the patient, Bernie racing after her. 

“You didn’t need to do that. Not that I don’t appreciate the—“ 

“No,” Serena interrupts, holding her hand up for her to stop. “I won’t have you take all this petty gossiping on your own. We’re in this together.” 

She doesn’t wait for Bernie to reply, continuing to her patient, her heart racing at the thought of the repercussions of her words but without a single regret for defending the woman that she loves. 

:: 

The next chance they get to talk isn’t until near the end of the day. Serena returns from a consult on another ward to find Bernie growling to herself over her temperamental PC. 

“You know, you could just ask maintenance for another one of those things,” Serena suggests, sitting down at her own computer. 

“No, it works. Eventually.” She gives the console a slap. “There we go.” 

Serena chuckles fondly, then takes a breath. “Are you okay?”

Bernie tenses visibly. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Serena raises an eyebrow at her skeptically. Bernie sighs. “Honestly, Serena. It’s fine. It’ll all blow over soon enough. I’ve had people gossiping about me before, if you remember.” 

“Yes but this is a little different, wouldn’t you say?” 

“Of course. Last time it was something I was actually ashamed of,” she replies, face deadpan. Serena frowns.

“Really.” 

“Yes. I haven’t betrayed anyone, haven’t split up my family. I won’t let a bunch of stupid band fives bully me into feeling ashamed of what I do.” 

Serena purses her lips. “Is that who saw you?”

Bernie nods. “Yep. Few of the new trauma nurses were on a night out. By the time I’d clocked them they’d seen me.” 

Serena bites her lip, considering her words. “Did they… What did you…” She looks away. “Did you dance for them?”

Bernie stops abruptly, her fiery and determined gaze leaving her computer screen for the first time. “Would it be a problem if I did?” Serena opens her mouth to speak, but suddenly her throat is dry and no words come out. Bernie shakes her head, gritting her teeth. 

“You’re just like the rest of them, aren’t you?” 

Serena says nothing. 

“You think that I’m essentially just promiscuous. You think that my job amounts to something more than just…” She trails off, looking for the right words but unable to find them. Serena tries to speak, tries to deny her feelings, but she just can’t seem to get the words out. 

“B- Bernie—“

A knock at the door. 

“Come in,” Bernie calls, her features cold as she looks away from Serena and back to her computer. Morven pokes her head around the door nervously, before stepping inside and closing the door behind her. 

“Sorry if I’m interrupting,” she says gingerly, her hands clasped together with nerves.

“No, by all means.” Bernie still doesn’t look away from her computer. “Go ahead.”

“Ms Wolfe, I wanted to apologise,” she begins. Bernie stops, but still doesn’t face her. “I shouldn’t have been so… so…” 

“Judgemental?” Bernie suggests.

“Yes,” Morven agrees, nodding. “I just…” She looks down. “Don’t you find it… degrading?” 

Bernie takes a deep breath, her eyes remaining on her computer screen. “No, I don’t,” she says seriously, then her posture softens slightly. “Not that I would ever recommend it, either,” she adds, with a heavy heart. Serena looks at her with slight surprise.

“Well, I,” Morven continues, avoiding eye contact. “Whatever you do, that’s your business. I still respect you as my superior and, I hope, friend.” Bernie says nothing, but seems to relax a little. “I just thought you’d like to know, I heard some of the trauma team talking and they’re planning on returning to the club to see you tonight.” 

Bernie runs a hand over her face, squeezing her eyes shut. “For god’s sake.” She finally looks at Morven, who currently resembles a deer in headlights. “Thank you, Morven, for your honesty. And your understanding.” 

Morven attempts a smile, her hand reaching for the doorknob and her escape. Bernie nods her dismissal and she scarpers, the tension in the room returning. 

“Look, Bernie, I didn’t mean—“

“Not now, Serena,” Bernie interrupts, standing. She goes over to her coat, but before she can grab it she stops, groaning and covering her face with her hands. “What the fuck is wrong with these people?” 

“Maybe you should take the night off,” Serena offers. “I’m sure it would be—“

“No, Serena,” Bernie cuts her off. “I said before, I’m not letting them make me feel ashamed of what I do. I’ll deal with this.” 

“At least let me—“

“No,” Bernie says firmly, her voice raised as she grabs her bag from her desk. “This is my problem, not yours. I have to deal with this by myself.” 

“But—“

And with that, she’s gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed!
> 
> P.s. I know this chapter was kinda uneventful, but listen to the whole song then decide whether u wanna be hype for the next chapter or not ;)


	13. don't let them win (part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for all your kind words and patience! This one was tough to write, but I really hope it's worth the long wait. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_[Song for this chapter: Don't Dream It's Over - Crowded House](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9gKyRmic20) _

* * *

The second Bernie arrives home, she regrets her words. She tosses her keys and her bag onto the table before collapsing onto the sofa, her hands over her face. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ Why did she have to push Serena away? Serena, who she loves so much, who only ever wanted to help her…

She guesses that part of it is down to her own insecurity about what she does. She’d never admit it, is too proud to, but sometimes it does get to her. Some nights she would lie awake, spiralling in thoughts of _what am I doing?_ Thinking about what her parents would say, what her kids would say, and, until recently, what Serena would say. 

But still she refuses to be ashamed. It is what it is, and yes, sometimes she wishes it were different. She tries hard to convince herself that she isn’t the only stripping consultant in the world but then she looks at the people around her and thinks that perhaps she is in the wrong. But then she comes back to _why should the rules be different for me?_ Why should being a consultant make her any less able to live her life as she pleases? She knows it’s only a dilemma because she’s stubborn, and that really she should take her professionalism more seriously, but she loves this job too. Why should she have to give that up?

She casts a glance at her phone in mild hope that Serena might have called or texted her. She hasn’t. It’s only a couple of hours before Bernie needs to set off for the club, and she doesn’t really have time to sit around and mope. With a sigh, she put her phone to charge and goes to get showered and ready, trying with all her will to put Serena out of her mind. 

Not that thinking about how on earth she was going to handle performing in front of a bunch of colleagues was any easier. 

:: 

By the end of her shift, Serena had worked herself up so much that she needed some time to be alone with her thoughts. So she did a very foolish thing. 

She stayed at the hospital. 

She texted Jason telling him not to expect her back til late and that his supper was in the fridge ready to be warmed up, she finished all of her paperwork and made sure it was in the appropriate pigeonholes at the nurses’ station, and finally she closed the blinds to her office, put on the radio, toed off her shoes and sat back to think. 

Her stomach still flutters from the day’s events. Everyone now knows of their little secret, and she’s not sure how to feel about it. Yes, they’re not hiding anymore but still the thought of the rumour mill sets her teeth on edge. She hates how affected she gets by just a little bit of gossip, but she can’t help the way she feels. She was the one to kickstart the rumours this time, yes, but it makes it none easier. In fact, in the back of her mind, it makes her wonder if it’s really all worth it. 

She thinks about Bernie, about what she said. Does she really have a problem with the fact that Bernie is a stripper? A day ago she would have said no, absolutely not, but Bernie’s words have shaken her. Perhaps she really was harbouring a hidden disparagement against her. She thinks about Bernie at work, about her dancing for other people, and she can’t deny the swell of jealousy in her stomach. Should she feel jealous? Is it really that important?

It all comes down to her feelings for her, to whether or not she loves her enough to work through it. If she can’t handle the rumour mill, then surely that’s falling at the first hurdle? What about her family, her friends? How would they feel, knowing that Serena was dating a stripper? Would it really be worth the hassle?

She frowns, feels like slapping herself. Of course it would be worth the hassle. Just one thought of Bernie, her smile, her warmth, her fierce spirit and delicious air of mischief. The glint in her eye that she reserved just for when she’s looking at Serena, the sweetness of her perfume, the softness of her skin, the shimmer of her hair. Bernie Wolfe has such life, such fire; it’s addictive. Everything about Bernie Wolfe, Serena finds some way to love, right down to her messy nature and her occasional sharp temper. Bernie is often determined that she has to do everything by herself, and Serena finds this infuriating, but at the same time Bernie’s fighting spirit makes her heart swell with pride. She’s strong, kind, patient, warm. Serena is head over heels. 

And now comes the time for action. She’s waited too long, has placed the ball in Bernie’s court for almost as long as she can remember, and it’s gotten her nowhere. Whilst Bernie is often brave, in this aspect of her life she is not. Serena sees now that she must be the one to take that step, to show Bernie that she is safe with her, that she isn’t going to turn away. 

She reckons that she’s made a right royal mess of that so far. 

But now, she knows what she has to do. She will show Bernie that she supports her, and she will tell her how she feels. Tonight. Before she loses her nerve. 

The clock in her office strikes 9pm. She’s been sat here almost two hours; Bernie would be at the club by now. She’ll have to go there, even though the staff will be lying in wait. And funnily enough, she finds it no longer bothers her as much. She knows what she wants, and she’s going to get it. 

Unfortunately, the hospital has other ideas. 

She’s just getting her coat when Fletch bursts in. 

“Oh, Ms Campbell. Thank God you’re still here. Five car pile-up. Multiple casualties. Three critical. We’re snowed under out here as it is. There’s two with arterial bleeds and we could really use your hands on this one.” 

Serena pauses, biting her lip, her chest constricting. She needs to see Bernie, can see herself ending up in surgery for the rest of the night and wants to refuse, but she knows that, as ever, saving lives must come first. 

“Okay, get theatre prepped. I’m coming now.”

::

Tossing her phone into her clutch bag with a sigh, Bernie returns her attention to the mirror and applying her makeup for the night. It’s half past nine, but the club doesn’t usually have more than a couple of customers before ten so the changing room is still alive with dancers getting themselves ready for work and gossiping. Usually she’d be listening in on a conversation or two, or chatting to one of the other dancers as they got ready, but tonight she feels heavy. She lowers her mascara brush, tries a smile, but she can’t quite get it to meet her eyes. She feels stupid for hoping that Serena would be in touch, after everything. Perhaps they were now beyond repair. 

She resumes her makeup, biting the insides of her cheeks to keep her emotions at bay. 

“Hey Bernie,” Scarlet, one of the other dancers, perches herself on the worktop beside Bernie’s things. “Did you get all that stuff sorted the other night?” 

“What?” Bernie blinks in confusion, then remembers. How could she forget? “Oh, the guys from work?” Scarlet nods. “Well, sorted might not quite be the right word.”

“What happened?” Scarlet asks, fiddling with her stockings. 

“Well...” Bernie sighs, putting her mascara away and getting out her lipstick. “Word has it, they’re coming back tonight.” She tries her best to sound unaffected when she says it, but knows she’s failing. 

“Why? Do you want them to come?” 

Bernie gives her a look. 

“Oh,” Scarlet says, her eyebrows raised. “That’s awful! Do you want me to ask Nick not to let them in?”

Bernie shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it. They’ve already told the entire hospital that I work here. What worse could happen?” 

Scarlet looks at her with concern, but sees that Bernie won’t change her mind on this. “Well, you just stay away from them, and I’ll tell the other girls not to take any bullshit. They put one toe out of line and they’re gone.” She hops off the counter, wobbling a little in her heels, then gives Bernie’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. 

“Either that, or we’ll bleed them dry,” she adds with a devilish wink, before tottering away. Bernie stares after her, can’t help a fond smile. As much as she forces herself to deal with problems alone, it felt good to know that someone had her back. Which brings her back to Serena. Serena had risked so much for her, earlier, and what had she done in return? She had pushed her away. 

Before she can convince herself otherwise, she is pulling her phone out of her clutch and bringing up Serena’s number, typing out a message. She deletes the first two, before settling on what she really needs to say. 

_I love you._

Her finger trembles as it hovers over the send button. Is she really doing this? 

She closes her eyes, hits send, throws her phone back in her bag and sets out to work. 

::

“Lou, would you mind checking my phone for me? Just want to make sure Jason’s okay.”

It’s almost quarter to midnight, and she’s elbow deep in an aortic haemorrhage that doesn’t look like being finished any time soon. 

“Battery’s dead, Ms Campbell.”

Serena rolls her eyes with a heavy sigh. “I left my charger at home. Suction.” She shakes her head. “Just make sure someone gets a message to Jason that I’m stuck here and will be home late.” 

She thinks about Bernie for a moment, about whether it would be odd for her to ask them to pass a message on to her too, but then—

“BP’s dropping. He’s bleeding out.” 

And just like that, she’s lost again. 

::

Work begins slowly, for Bernie. Before midnight there’s only a handful of customers, and she spends most of her time by the bar chatting to the other girls. Most of them are expecting her unwelcome guests by now, and sympathise with her. She tries to hope that they won’t show, that it was just a rumour, but she knows that luck will never be on her side. 

And true to that, at 2am sharp they arrive, most barely sober enough to be allowed entry and occupying a row of tables alongside the stage. Bernie thanks her lucky stars that her last stage show was only half an hour ago, and so hopefully they will have gone by the next time she is called up. Scarlet gives her a wink as she and another few girls pounce, and Bernie continues chatting to the pleasant couple she has found herself with by the bar. She takes them both for a dance, which thankfully passes a little time for her and helps her to avoid the trauma staff. 

After the couple have left, she finds herself hiding in the changing rooms for a while. Her energy levels are dwindling a little, and she can’t find it in herself to face the staff just yet. She perches herself on one of the counters, her knees cracking as she hugs them up to her chest, and checks her phone. 

_Message undelivered_

Her heart jumps to her throat. Serena won’t have seen the message yet, and she can’t decide whether or not that’s a bad thing. The wait is killing her, but on the other hand she’s so terrified of what Serena might reply. It’s nearing three o’clock in the morning, so Serena would probably be asleep now. She would see the message when she wakes up and turns her phone back on. Bernie’s stomach twists, knowing that she won’t be able to get to sleep herself until she’s had a reply. Maybe she could go round there, she wonders. Throw rocks at her bedroom window like they do in films and confess her undying love on the front lawn. 

She chuckles at herself, shaking her head and putting her phone back in her bag. If she doesn’t laugh, she’ll cry, she thinks as she hops off the counter, rearranging herself in the mirror before making her way back out to the club. If only she could distract herself. She gets another glass of wine from the bar before going to speak to some more customers. 

“Here she is!”

Jeering erupts as she tries to ignore them, sits down at a table with younger man, probably in his early thirties. 

“Come on, Ms Wolfe. Give us a flash!” 

She grits her teeth as she introduces herself to the man. 

“They all seem keen,” he comments, nodding over to the nurses’ table. 

“I think they must have me mistaken for someone they know,” she lies quickly, not wanting the man to realise her surname and be able to trace her. She manages to change the topic, and holds back a sigh of relief when the man asks her for a half-hour private dance, away from the shouts of the nurses. The man offers to buy her another drink before they go upstairs and she accepts, taking the opportunity to check her phone again whilst he was paying in the faintest hope that Serena might have turned her phone on, but the message was still undelivered. For a second she contemplates deleting it, forgetting the whole thing, but then the drinks are served and she’s off to work again. 

Thirty minutes pass all too quickly, and before long she is out on the club floor again, carefully avoiding the area at which the nurses are unfortunately still sat. Looking at her watch, she sees that it’s now almost 4am, and wonders if the manager might let her head off early. She feels cowardly doing it, but knows it’s for the best. 

Then, just as she’s about to make her way to the main office, her nightmares come true. 

“Bernie to the DJ booth, please. That’s Bernie to the DJ booth.”

Her stage call. 

She freezes as the nurses cheer behind her. 

“Finally!”

Her whole body turns cold, and for a moment she worries she might be sick. _Come on, Bernie. Pull yourself together._ She doesn’t like doing stage shows at the best of times, if she’s honest with herself. This might be too much. 

_You’re a soldier. You can do this._

She pauses, takes a breath, and heads to the DJ booth to select her songs. 

“Next song after [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ssCL292DQA) and you’re on.”

Bernie nods, standing behind the heavy velvet curtain to the stage. Through a small gap she can spy the nurses at their table, waiting eagerly for her performance. She steps back, leans against the wall behind her. _Deep breaths._ She closes her eyes, wills it all to go away, but even through the curtain she can hear them jeering again. _Deep breaths._

_One in._

_Two out._

_Three in._

“Bernie.”

::

It’s after three before Serena is out of surgery. She lets out a sigh of exhilaration as she closes the door to her office. It had been touch and go, but despite the odds they had managed to save both patients. She sits down in her chair, taking a moment to gather herself, the adrenaline dwindling. Then she remembers Jason, starts rooting about in her desk in a desperate effort to find a phone charger, but it’s no use. 

_Hopefully Lou got that message to Jason,_ she thinks, and her eyes fall on Bernie’s empty chair. She wonders what she’s doing now, if she’s still at the club, if the nurses are there. Perhaps she had had a change of heart, had decided to skip work entirely. She doubts it. She knows that it’s not in Bernie’s nature to give in to people like that. It’s one of the many things she loves about her. 

Serena feels sad, though, at the thought of Bernie dealing with this on her own. Bernie had told her she wanted to be alone, but deep down she knows that what Bernie says and what she really needs are two different things. She’s always so determined to be tough, to fight the world with her own two fists and with no one to have her back, when it doesn’t need to be like that. Serena would give anything for her, would support her through anything. Perhaps that’s what love is. 

And perhaps it’s about time she started fighting. 

:: 

Half an hour later, the club is in full swing. Almost every table is occupied and there’s quite a queue at the bar. The atmosphere is warm and sticky, a heady combination of perfume and perspiration in the air. Butterflies swarm in Serena’s stomach as she scans the sea of people for Bernie and spots the nurses at their table by the stage, but Bernie is nowhere to be seen. She takes a seat in the corner of the room, in the hope of hiding herself from her colleagues. 

It’s almost a quarter of an hour before she spots Bernie, coming down from the private dance rooms with a young man trailing behind her, sheepish but satisfied grin on his face. She pushes past the twinge of jealousy in the pit of her stomach, reminds herself that this is just Bernie’s job, forces herself not to think about whether that applies to her. 

The man shrugs his coat on, and Bernie gives him a light kiss on the cheek goodbye. She turns back to the club floor and Serena sits taller slightly in the hope that Bernie might spot her and come over, and for a moment it looks like she’s heading her way. But then she stops, looks at the watch on her wrist, and turns the other way. Serena goes to stand—

“Bernie to the DJ Booth, please. That’s Bernie to the DJ booth.” 

“Finally!”

She sits down again at the jeering coming from by the stage. Bernie freezes, her jaw clenched and her shoulders hunched. For a moment, Serena thinks Bernie might ignore her call, might continue in the opposite direction, but then she turns with purpose and, holding her head high, disappears behind the stage curtain. 

Serena’s hands tighten on the arms of her seat. She wants to follow her, but she knows that it would be impossible to hide herself from the nurses. 

And she doesn’t care. 

She stands, strides over to the stage. 

“It’s Ms Campbell!”

Cheering fills the air and she walks a little faster, ducking behind the curtain and out of sight. 

“Bernie.”

Bernie opens her eyes confusedly. Her mouth falls open in shock. 

“Sorry I’m so late. I was stuck in theatre and then my phone died and—“

“S-Serena,” Bernie stammers. “What are you doing h—“

“Couldn’t let you face the masses on your own now, could I?” 

She gives her a wink, and Bernie can’t help the grin that lights up her features. 

“Though I must say I draw the line at a double act,” Serena jokes, nodding behind her at the stage. Bernie laughs out loud. 

“Now there’s something that would give them all their money’s worth.”

“And then some.” 

“Though we might have to modify our behaviour somewhat for the public eye.”

“Yes, you’d have to keep your hands to yourself for a start.” 

Bernie looks radiant, Serena thinks as they smile at one another. Her insides melt as she sees that perfect twinkle in the other woman’s eye, the twinkle she seemed to reserve for when she is looking at Serena. She reaches out, interlinks their fingers. Bernie looks down at their joined hands, her expression turning serious as she remembers a question from weeks ago. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Serena frowns at her suddenly tentative tone, but nods. 

“We— we’re close, aren’t we?” Serena looks at her in confusion. “What I mean is, there are very little... boundaries between us, whilst you’re here. But... your hands. You act as though you’ll get an electric shock or something if you so much as brush a finger against me. Why is that?” 

Serena blinks, taken aback by the question. “It’s the golden rule, isn’t it? No touching. I wouldn’t want to disrespect your boundaries like that.” 

Bernie stares at her in stunned silence for a moment, before bursting into a laugh. 

“Seriously?” 

“What?” Serena asks, bewildered. 

Bernie shakes her head in amusement. “I must have been felt up what, a dozen times tonight — I’ve only done four dances! And here’s you being all prim and proper!” 

Serena gapes, surprised by Bernie’s reaction to this. “And you’re okay with that?” 

This seems to take Bernie by surprise a little. “Well... You get used to it. It’s part of the job.” She stops, her face turning serious as she seems to realise just what she is saying. 

Serena takes a breath, squeezes Bernie’s hand tighter. “But I don’t want to be that. I don’t want to be just ‘part of the job’. I don’t want to be like them.” 

Bernie looks down at their hands again, her voice softening. “You’re not like them,” she murmurs, before looking up. “You never were. Not for a second.” 

“Serena, I—“

“Please welcome to the stage the beautiful Bernie…” 

Both women jump as the DJ announces Bernie’s dance. Bernie drops Serena’s hand, cracking her knuckles and taking a deep breath. 

“Here, let me hold that.” Serena takes Bernie’s bag from under her arm. “Now then. Go… break some hearts.” She winks, and Bernie laughs. 

“Very funny.” She shakes her head, going up the steps to the curtain that leads onto the stage. Serena watches her go, a warm smile on her face.

Bernie pauses at the top. “Serena?” 

“Hmm?” 

She looks through the curtain, and then back to Serena, beaming with a sudden wave of reckless abandon. 

“I love you.” 

Bernie disappears through the curtain and onto the stage, leaving Serena gaping in shock behind her. She _what?_ Serena’s heart feels as if it may have developed an arrhythmia, tears stinging at the back of her eyes. Bernie had said... She holds a hand up to her mouth, muffling the half laugh, half sob that escapes her lips. Bernie said she loves her. 

She tries to steady her breathing, suddenly feeling lighter than she has in months. She’s almost giddy with the relief of it and the excitement of letting Bernie know that she felt the same way, of finally being able to be honest with her. Truly, she felt a little overwhelmed with it all, and is so lost in her delight that she doesn’t even register Bernie leaving the stage. 

“Serena, you okay?” 

She jumps as Bernie rests her hand lightly on her shoulder. She opens her mouth to speak, finds no words come out. 

“Serena?”

“I’m sorry,” she manages to splutter, her eyes suddenly welled with tears. “It’s— It’s been a long day. I just feel a bit… I’ve not had any food since lunchtime.”

Bernie looks a little baffled and almost worried by Serena’s unexpected change of mood. She takes Serena’s hand.

“Come on. Let’s go somewhere quieter and get you something to eat.”

Serena is still too stunned to reply much, and so allows Bernie to lead her to the bar and get her a bag of crisps and a glass of water each. She murmurs her thanks and takes a big gulp, feeling immediate relief as the cool liquid touches her lips. Then Bernie nods towards the stairs in silent question, and when Serena nods in return leads them upstairs to one of the private rooms, as usual slipping the bouncer a tenner to leave them alone for a while. 

“Sit down,” Bernie says gently, gesturing to the table. “Let me take your coat. It’s warm in here.”

She hangs Serena’s things up by the door, and when she returns to the table Serena is already tucking into her crisps. They sit in companionable silence, Bernie sipping her water whilst Serena eats. When she’s finished, it takes a while for either of them to speak.

“I’m sor—“ 

“Don’t,” Serena interrupts her sharply, holding out a hand. “Please don’t say you’re sorry.”

“Sorry,” Bernie murmurs, a flash of humour in her eyes that Serena just can’t resist. 

“Come here.” Serena lifts her arm for Bernie to duck under, and then they’re clinging on to one another as though their lives depend on it.

“Bernie, I love you,” Serena whispers into her hair, holding onto her tighter. “I love you. God, I love you.” She squeezes her eyes shut tight, wiping beneath them with her thumb. “Gosh, you’ve got me all sentimental.” 

She feels Bernie chuckle against her, but her voice too is thick with emotion. “You’ll set me off.”

They laugh at themselves, pulling apart just far enough that they can lean in for a kiss. 

“I love you,” Serena murmurs again and again and again. It’s as though now she’s said it once, every instance in which she’s had to hold it in has come racing back. In the back of her mind, she wonders amusedly whether she’ll ever be able to utter anything else, whether she’s stuck like this forever. She could keep on whispering these three little words for the rest of her life, she thinks, and perhaps she will. 

It’s a while before they break for breath, foreheads resting together and fingers interlinked. 

“You taste like Quavers,” Bernie comments, smirking. Serena bites her lip.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

To illustrate her point, Bernie places another warm kiss on Serena’s lips, although this time it’s more languid and lazy. Serena’s energy levels are dwindling too, and the kiss is interrupted by a yawn. 

“It’s really late. You’ve had a busy day,” Bernie says, giving her hand a squeeze. She pauses. “Why don’t you go back to my place, make yourself some food. I’ll give you a key then be back about six. I’d come with you but I just have a couple of things I need to sort here first.” 

Serena nods. “That sounds like a plan.” She yawns again, before grinning. “Though, you can’t let me come to all this effort and then leave without even a little dance.” She raises an eyebrow suggestively, and Bernie laughs, though her eyes darken. She mocks a sigh, rolling her eyes theatrically. 

“Yet _another_ freebie, Campbell.” 

“I’m sure I’ll find some way to repay you.” 

“I’m sure you will.”

They look at each other, then laugh. 

“Get over there,” Bernie says, giving her a playful shove. “Let me sort out this suspender belt.” 

Serena gives her one last kiss before moving to sit on the chaise longue. Bernie stands, fiddling with a clip on her stockings that has come unfastened. She swears under her breath as it pings back again, and Serena smiles at her fondly. 

“Need a hand?”

Bernie looks up at her and sighs before sauntering over to where she is sat, footsteps matching the slow drum beat in playing through the [stereo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H86730HjLVA). 

“I hate these bloody things,” she grumbles, standing close in front of Serena so that she can see the clip. Eventually she manages it and sits back with a hum of self-satisfaction. 

“There.”

“Thanks.” 

Bernie spins around and perches herself on one of Serena’s thighs, her arm draped lazily across her shoulders to keep herself steady. By habit, Serena balls her hands at her sides, then remembers Bernie’s words before. Still, she can’t quite bring herself to do it, the fear of making Bernie uncomfortable too much, so she ends up frozen with her hands in mid air, unsure of how quite to proceed. 

“How about we start... here,” Bernie suggests, moving one of Serena’s hands to rest on her outside hip and the other to her thigh. Serena lets out a deep breath as she brushes her fingertips against soft skin, feeling how Bernie’s hairs stand on end and her skin prickles with her touch. Just feeling the effect she has on Bernie makes her head spin and her breath hitch, sweet anticipation burning in her veins and between her thighs. 

Then Bernie turns in her lap to sit between her legs, her back pressed against Serena and her head resting back on her shoulder, her neck exposed and inviting. 

It only takes Serena a moment’s hesitation before she’s attacking Bernie’s neck with kisses and nips, leaving the other woman writhing in her lap. She arches against her, pushes her ass back against Serena’s crotch and Serena gasps against her, nipping a little harder at the base of her neck in response as they begin to move together. 

Meanwhile, Serena’s hands stroke across Bernie’s stomach, up and down her thighs, everywhere but where Bernie needs her most. It’s such a thrill, finally being able to explore Bernie’s body like this, that Serena finds herself lost in it. That, and the torturous feeling of Bernie pushing back against her sex in a painfully slow rhythm that’s driving her wild. 

“Oh, Bernie,” Serena breaths into her ear, her chest pounding. “You’re so, so beautiful. Please let me see you.” She breathes a sigh of relief when Bernie turns around, straddles her, her hands braced on Serena’s shoulders whilst Serena’s still lay at her waist. 

Bernie meets Serena’s eye, bites her lip. Her cheeks are tinted pink, and her eyes dark and lustrous. She lets go of Serena’s left shoulder, instead covering Serena’s hand with her own and moving it upwards, to the strap of her bodysuit. 

“Undress me,” she murmurs, leaning forwards to brush her lips against Serena’s, hips still gyrating. “Take everything you want, everything you _need_ from me.” 

Serena groans, fingertips toying with the strap and hips moving in unison with Bernie’s. Her heart is racing, the anticipation all too much as she slowly pulls the strap down, right hand moving up to Bernie’s other shoulder to mirror her actions. 

Part of her feels stupid. She’s seen it all before, multiple times, but this feels different. This feels even more electric than that very first time. Her stomach flips and her breaths come uneven and shallow as she watches herself gradually reveal more and more skin. And it feels so deliciously forbidden, even though Bernie has asked her to do this, that it heightens the sensation and the emotion more than she thought possible. She has dreamt about this for so long, has imagined how it would feel and what she would do, and now it’s actually happening her brain seems to short-circuit. All thought dissipates, leaving her only with carnal urge and the heat that rages through her body. Her every nerve is alight, a jolt of arousal shooting through her with every rock of her hips, every whimper that leaves Bernie’s lips, every breath on her cheek. 

“Please, Serena,” Bernie gasps as she pulls her arms out of the straps, the bodysuit still covering her breasts. “Please.”

Bernie is begging her, and Serena doesn’t have it in her to tease even for a moment as she slowly peels down the tight fabric.

Her breath leaves her as she takes in the sight before her. Bernie, flushed and gyrating, her bodysuit now bunched at her waist. Serena thinks she might never have witnessed a sight so beautiful. She reaches out with trembling fingers, cups Bernie’s breast in her hand an watches as she reacts to her touch, her eyelids fluttering shut and her lips parting.

“Serena…”

Bernie gasps her name as Serena tweaks a nipple between her thumb and forefinger for the first time. Serena’s own nipples are aching in sympathy, her cunt twitching and burning and her eyes hazy. She leans forward, captures one nipple between her lips as she continues to palm the other, listening to Bernie sigh and gasp above her, whimpering how much she needs her. 

“You’re so good at that. So good…” Bernie pants, threading her fingers through Serena’s hair. She leans down, puts her lips as close to Serena’s ear as she can manage in that position. “I love you.”

Serena gives Bernie’s nipple one last flick with her tongue before kissing upwards, her hands coming up behind Bernie’s neck to pull her down for a kiss.

“I love you. I love you.”

She feels herself getting emotional again, and this only serves to heighten the need in her body. She smooths her hands down Bernie’s back, causing her to shiver, and dips her hands beneath where it is bunched at her waist.

“How do I get this off without moving you?” She asks with a giggle, and Bernie laughs.

“I’d rather you didn’t tear it off. If I were to walk back downstairs in the nude I dare say it would be a little frowned upon, even here.” 

Serena grins into the kiss, before giving her a light shove. “Stand up.” 

Bernie does as she’s told, standing on wobbly knees before the woman she loves, hands still braces on Serena’s shoulders to keep herself upright. Serena rakes her eyes up and down Bernie’s body hungrily, and Bernie gasps in response, her knees wobbling again. 

“Fuck, Serena. I need you,” she whines, her cheeks red and her whole body trembling. Serena licks her lips, dips her head forwards to kiss Bernie’s stomach, just above where the bodysuit rests. 

“Tell me how much,” she growls, hooking her fingers beneath it and beginning to slowing drag it past Bernie’s hips. Bernie steps closer to her, threading her fingers through Serena’s hair.

“Serena, God,” she breathes, arching against her. “You know… You know I think of nothing else.” She moans as Serena reaches around and gives her ass a rough squeeze. “Did you like the phone call?” She murmurs as Serena pulls the bodysuit yet further down, revealing the beginning of her neatly cropped curls. “I think of that every night, Serena. That was just the first time I told you about it.” 

Serena bites her lip, her whole body alight. She kisses the newly exposed skin, worships the woman before her with everything she has. “Tell me how you want me.” 

Bernie lets out a deep moan, her fingers tight in Serena’s hair. “I want _you_ , Serena Campbell,” she says, her voice more serious than she had intended. “All I ever want is you.” She’s softer now, her voice thickened with emotion. She reaches down, lifts Serena’s chin so that she’s looking her in the eye. “I want you however you are willing to give yourself to me,” she murmurs, thumb stroking Serena’s cheek. “There is no one in the world I aim to please more.” She feels herself getting choked up again, clears her throat. 

Serena turns her head, nuzzles against Bernie’s palm, kisses it then takes a finger in her mouth, her grip on Bernie’s bodysuit tightening. She hesitates for a moment and then pushes it down, letting it fall to the floor, exposing Bernie before her. At first, all she can think of is dipping forward, tasting Bernie’s hot, dripping sex and drinking it up as though it were a spring in a desert. But no. She wants to feel Bernie against her, wants to kiss her, to hold her, to be able to whisper in her ear her every thought as she’s fucking her. And so she gently takes her by the waist, tugs her forward until she is straddling her, slowly begins to move their hips in rhythm again.

“Berenice Wolfe,” she whispers, kissing her cheek, her jawline. “I…” She moves her hand to the top of Bernie’s thigh. “Are we really doing this?” 

Bernie pulls back a moment, cups Serena’s face with both hands. “Do you want to do this?” She asks, her eyes full of care. “This is your decision.”

Serena nods eagerly. “I want to. God, I want to.” She leans in for another kiss. “I just…” She trails off, and Bernie looks at her in concern. “I’ve never… never _touched_ another woman before.” She smiles shyly, and Bernie nods her understanding, reaching down to the hand that is currently resting at the top of her thigh. Maintaining eye contact to make sure that this is what Serena wanted and was comfortable with, she gently lifted Serena’s hand, moved it between her legs. 

“Do you feel that, Serena?” She murmurs, her eyelids fluttering as she moves Serena’s fingers back and forth between her slick folds. “That’s all you. Mmmh.” She tilts her head back as Serena begins to move more on her own, varying the pressure of her fingertips slightly, until Bernie drops her hand, moving her own back to Serena’s shoulder to help balance herself. 

“God…” Serena gasps in awe, for the first time experiencing just what it felt like to have Bernie Wolfe on her fingers, hot and throbbing and desperate. She had imagined this so many times, and nothing quite matched up to the real thing.

“You’re perfect,” she whispers into Bernie’s ear, peppering light kisses up her neck and along her jawline. “Tell me what you want.”

“Two fingers,” Bernie replies almost instantly, and Serena is only too eager to oblige. She bites down hard on the insides of her cheeks to stop herself groaning aloud as Bernie sinks down onto her fingers. It’s such a heavenly feeling, having Bernie clench and contract around her, her hips moving in a steady but firm rhythm and her fingers digging into her shoulders. 

“You feel so good,” she tells her, free hand coming up to palm Bernie’s breast. “God, you’re so wet.” Her own knickers are beyond soaked, but she barely even registers that. No, all she cares about right now is the beautiful, wanton woman currently riding her fingers, her breaths coming out more and more sharply as Serena picks up her pace, presses her thumb to Bernie’s clit. 

“Serena!” She gasps, a quiet wail rumbling in the back of her throat. Serena continues her rhythm, whispering soft words of encouragement as Bernie ruts against her, bringing herself closer and closer to the edge. It strikes Serena how gentle they are, how tender this is. When she had imagined touching Bernie for the first time, it had always been rough, loud and carnal. But this… They were so wrapped up in one another and the moment that it were almost as though they were hiding, were keeping their every breath so quiet that only the other could hear because that’s how they wanted this moment to be. Not another soul could intrude on this. It was a moment for them and for them only. And so their whimpers and moans and little gasps of pleasure were kept almost silent so as to remain strictly between them, as it was all about them. Nothing and no one else mattered in that moment. 

Serena hears Bernie’s breath hitch in the back of her throat, and knows she’s close. She nips at the skin at the base of her neck as she adds a third finger, hears Bernie’s sharp gasp in respond and slows her movements a little. Bernie makes a little grunt in protest, hips rutting faster and deeper, desperate to come. 

“I’m so, so close Serena,” she breathes, fingertips digging more insistently into Serena’s shoulder. Serena’s hand is starting to cramp, but she continues her movements, making gentle circular movements with her thumb against Bernie’s clit.

And then she’s coming, hard and fast and sweet, biting down sharply on her bottom lip. Serena’s eyelids flutter closed, savouring the feeling of Bernie clenching and gushing around her fingers, savouring this moment to remember forever. 

“Serena, I…” Bernie trembles as Serena slowly removes her fingers, unable to resist lifting them to her lips for a taste before reaching around and pulling Bernie into a tight embrace, her face buried in the crook of Bernie’s neck as she takes a moment to process, to calm.

They stay like that for several moments, just relaxing into one another, Bernie’s breaths gradually levelling out. And though she tries it, Serena can’t suppress another yawn.

“Come on.” Bernie pulls back with a warm smile. “You need sleep.” 

“I’m fine,” Serena replies, but half way through her words another yawn escapes her and she rolls her eyes at herself.

“How are you not knackered? You’ve been awake the same amount of time as me,” Serena huffs as Bernie stands up, wobbling a little as she finds her bodysuit. 

“Coffee,” she replies simply. “That, and I wasn’t doing surgery into the middle of the night. What happened?”

“Massive RTC. They needed a vascular surgeon and I hadn’t left yet.”

“Blimey.” Bernie sits beside her, stepping into her bodysuit and pulling it up and over her stockings and suspender belt. “Go okay?”

Serena nods, watching as she pulls the straps of her bodysuit up and over her shoulders. “Yes, both of mine are over the worst, thankfully.”

Bernie beams at her. “Good.” She stands, holding a hand out for Serena to do the same. 

“So all in all, I’d say I’ve had rather a successful night.” Serena looks Bernie up and down pointedly, and the other woman chuckles. 

“Yes, I’d say you have.” 

She goes over to fetch Serena’s coat from the hanger and helps her into it before rooting about in her bag for her door key. 

“Here,” she says, handing it over. 

“Thanks. It is still Kendall Road, isn’t it?” 

Bernie nods. “Yep. Same building but I’m in number fifteen now, two doors down.”

“Right.” 

Serena allows Bernie to lead her back down the stairs and to the entrance of the club. Glancing at the stage, she sees that the nurses have finally gone, and remembers Bernie’s dance. 

“How did the dance go, by the way? I was a little preoccupied.” 

“Great. I didn’t fall on my face, so I count that as a win.” She shrugs. 

“Well, that’s the main thing,” Serena smiles. They stand there in almost awkward silence for a few moments, neither quite wanting to say goodbye and a million unsaid words still on the tips of their tongues, until Serena yawns again. 

“Go home,” Bernie laughs, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “I won’t be long.” She leans in and places a gentle, quick kiss on Serena’s lips, cautious of the bouncer standing a few feet away. Serena nods, pulling her car keys out of her bag. 

“See you soon.”

She finally manages to drag herself away, going back to where she parked the car a couple of streets away. Before driving away, she takes a minute to gather herself. _Bernie Wolfe said she loves me_. She can’t quite get over that thought. She knows that they have a long way to go and a lot to talk about, to get off their chests. But it’s happening, finally. Finally, she had been honest. 

She can’t help laughing as she drives away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeek please let me know what you thought!x


	14. and i love you, i love you, i love you like never before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY I'm updating this! Life's been hell but I've gotten round to it. This is only about 60% of what I had planned for this chapter but when I realised it was already over 5,000 words and that I hadn't updated for over five months (seriously where has that time gone?!) I decided to split it.
> 
> Thank you all so so much for all your kind messages and comments, I really wouldn't have stuck with this without them! Keep 'em coming! ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

_[Song for this chapter: Songbird - Fleetwood Mac](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTi19MPOvDw) _

* * *

It’s almost quarter to seven when Bernie finally gets home. The flat is in darkness when she arrives, and her stomach drops as she wonders if Serena had had second thoughts and gone home. But then she remembers that the front door was unlocked, and so Serena must be in here somewhere. 

She turns on the light in the living room, an action that is met with a groan. 

“Ughhh,” Serena grumbles from the sofa, turning her head into the cushion she’s resting her head on. Bernie spies the bottle of wine and empty glass on the coffee table as she approaches and quirks an eyebrow, before looking to Serena. She is slumped on the sofa, wearing only a towel and her still-damp hair sticking out at the oddest of angles. Bernie smiles to herself at how domestic this feels, and perches beside her. 

“Did you not manage to find the bed?” She teases, gently running her fingers through Serena’s hair to smooth it down. Serena shakes her head, still not opening her eyes. 

“Didn’t want to... was waiting for you,” she mumbles. 

“You could have at least borrowed some pyjamas,” she smiles, her eyes wandering up and down Serena’s barely covered body. Serena grunts. 

“Was going to... Your settee is too comfortable... fell asleep...”

“Yeah, I noticed.” 

Serena opens her eyes at that, lifting her arm to rub the corner of her eye. 

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Bernie reassures, her hand dropping down to Serena’s neck. “I did take rather a while.” 

“What time is it?” Serena asks, seemingly a little more awake now. 

“Almost quarter to seven.”

“Gosh.” Serena rubs her eyes. “That is late.” 

“Well, I had a couple of things to do.” She pauses, fondly admiring the crinkles on Serena’s cheeks from where she has been lying. She stands up. “I’ll get you a glass of water.” 

“There’s orange juice in the fridge,” Serena says weakly as she slowly sits herself up. Bernie goes to find it, then stops. 

“I don’t have orange juice.” She frowns in confusion. 

“You didn’t have _anything_.” Serena yawns. “I did you a shop.” 

Bernie wanders to the fridge, usually bare but now almost filled with food. “Blimey,” she comments. “Did you get enough?” 

Serena chuckles. “Never shop when you’re hungry.” She yawns again. “But it’s a good job I did. Don’t you ever eat?” 

Bernie goes to find a glass in the cupboard, and smirks as she spots that her previously empty wine rack is now stocked full. “I usually get takeaway or eat at work,” she explains, and Serena tuts in response. 

She returns with a glass of orange juice, handing it to Serena before sitting down next to her. 

“Thank you,” Bernie says, her stomach feeling warm as she thinks about how kindly Serena takes care of her. “You didn’t have to.” 

“Well, I did have myself in mind too,” Serena comments. “I’m going to cook you breakfast.” She goes to stand, but Bernie grabs her hand, links their fingers to hold her back. 

“The only place you’re going is bed,” she tells her, standing. “We can eat in the morning.” 

“It _is_ the morning.” 

Bernie chuckles, standing. “Whenever we wake up then.” She gives Serena’s hand a squeeze, before remembering her dizzy spell at the club. “Have you eaten anything, though? Are you hungry?” 

Serena shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. I had a sandwich from Tesco.” She smiles, meeting Bernie’s eye for the first time since she arrived home. She wants to kiss her, but despite their earlier confessions, neither feel confident enough to close the gap. Bernie reaches out and interlinks her fingers with Serena’s other hand. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says sincerely. “I have to say, when I saw all the lights off I wondered if you’d bailed.” 

Serena shakes her head. “No, I was just so tired I couldn’t stand the brightness,” she explains. “Nearly broke my neck getting out of the shower.” 

“Is there any particular reason you thought it would be a good idea to have a shower in total darkness at 6am?” Bernie raises an eyebrow, her stomach fluttering as she watches Serena’s eyes drift down to her lips. 

“Well, I, er...” And she closes the gap between them, her lips meeting Bernie’s in a chaste kiss that makes both their heads spin. Her hands come up to caress Bernie’s cheek, smoothing her thumb over the soft skin so delicately, as if she might break. Her stomach fills with butterflies as she realises: this is real. Their confessions were heated, yes. Spur of the moment, brought on by a stressful day and elation that they made it through. But this, this was a confirmation, a promise that they meant every word they had said. This was the real confession that they were truly, devastatingly in love with each other. 

Then lust begins to bite, Serena’s hands moving up to thread through Bernie’s hair, Bernie’s hands clutching at Serena’s waist as they press against one another, breaths heavy and laboured as their tongues touch. It’s not the first time, but still this feels new. Serena wonders if it will ever stop feeling like the very first time, if it will ever stop being the most delicious thrill to kiss Bernie Wolfe. Probably not. 

Serena’s towel begins to slip, and she forces herself to pull away, gathering it back up around her and leaving Bernie in confusion. She offers her a devilish smirk, her eyes full of mischief. 

“I’m afraid you’re not seeing me naked just yet, darling,” she teases, taking another step away. “We’re having dinner first.” She stops, her eyes widening. “Oh shit, the reservation!” 

Bernie’s mouth opens. “That was last night?” 

Serena nods, biting her lip. “In all the excitement I completely forgot.” She shakes her head “I guess we’ll just have to find another restaurant for next time.” 

“We could always tell them we’re doctors and got stuck in surgery, or something,” Bernie offers. “Surely they’d understand.”

“Yes, I suppose.” Serena sighs. “Now where can I find some pyjamas?” 

Bernie gestures to the door to her room. “Bottom drawer.” She catches Serena’s hand as she begins to turn away, gives it a squeeze. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, I’ll wait.” Serena smiles back at her, and leans in for another quick kiss. 

“Thank you.” 

She disappears into the bedroom, whilst Bernie goes to wash her face and slips into the old t shirt she leaves in the bathroom. When she returns, Serena is tucked up in bed wearing a nightshirt and shorts, looking at her with sleepy eyes. Bernie feels her heart swell, shuffles in beside her. 

“This is nice,” she comments as Serena tucks herself beneath her arm. She pulls her tighter to herself with a contented sigh. 

“Yes.” Serena buries her nose in Bernie’s chest, breathing in deep the homely scent of Bernie’s shirt. Bernie almost thinks she’s fallen asleep before she speaks again. “What took you so long after work, anyway?” 

Bernie takes a moment to reply. “Scarlet dragged me for coffee,” she starts, then her voice takes on a more amused tone. “Had some interesting things to tell me about the nurses.”

Serena’s eyes were beginning to droop, but she’s wide awake at that. “Oh?” 

Bernie nods, a crafty grin making its way onto her lips. “They got a good hiding, by all accounts.” Serena frowns at her to explain. “Apparently, just before I went on stage, one of them — the apparent ringleader, according to her — went in for a dance with one of the other girls. Left his phone on the table. His wife rang; Scarlet answered it.” 

Serena gasps. “No!” 

“Scarlet told her where he was, and that he wouldn’t be there much longer if he continued being so disrespectful to the dancers. Half an hour later — whilst we were upstairs — his wife apparently showed up and gave him a slap. Dragged him out by his shirt, informed the rest that she’d be having words with their significant others too.” She laughs, settling down a little more comfortably against the pillows, pulling Serena with her. It crosses her mind briefly how different it feels, having Serena in her arms like this. It’s almost as if she’s dreaming, and she allows herself the luxury of burying her nose in Serena’s hair, breathing her in, reminding herself that this is real, that she’s finally got her and never wants to let go. 

“Well,” Serena grins happily. “Serves him right. And I’ll be sure to make their lives hell in work from now on too.” 

“One of your lifelong, take it to the grave grudges?” 

“Definitely. I—“ 

Bernie’s phone buzzes on her bedside table.

“Sorry.”

Bernie disentangles herself, leaning over. 

“Ah, that’s Scarlet home.” She squints at the bright light of the screen. “I’ll just plug this in.”

She reaches down to her charger beside her bed. 

“Oh, I put mine on charge down there,” Serena remembers. “Pass it up here, it should be done now. I ought to text Jason; he’ll be beside himself after not hearing from me for so long. It’s been dead since this afternoon.” 

Bernie groans slightly as she reaches down, goes to pass Serena’s phone to her but stops half way, remembering. 

“What?” Serena asks with worry, seeing Bernie frozen. Bernie blinks, then shakes her head, giving it to Serena. 

“Nothing,” she replies nonchalantly, turning her reddening face away as she reaches down to plug in her own phone. Serena frowns, then turns on her phone. 

**Bernie Wolfe - 9:41pm**

_I love you._

Bernie had messaged her telling her that she loved her, almost six hours before she even arrived at the club. Her breath hitches, emotion clawing at her chest again. In the back of her mind, she had had doubts, had wondered if Bernie’s words had been the result of a testing day and gratitude that she had showed up to support her. But this reassured her, calmed her mind. Tears form behind her eyes. She thinks she’s gone awfully soft tonight. 

“Serena? You okay?” 

She beams, tossing her phone away and launching herself at the woman beside her, wrapping her arms around her neck and kissing her until neither can breathe. 

::

When she begins to wake around 1pm, it takes Serena several moments to realise where she is. It’s only when she tries to turn over and notices the warm body pressed against her that she remembers all of last night, of the club, of Bernie’s words to her. 

Her stomach stirs as she remembers how Bernie had taken her up to the private room, how she had whispered to her over and over the words that she had waited what felt like a lifetime to hear. She remembers how Bernie had danced for her, had laid herself bare, and remembers the feeling of Bernie’s soft skin beneath her fingertips, the electricity that seemed to emanate from her every touch. And when Bernie had sunk down on her fingers for the first time, that wet, burning heat that enveloped her every sense, every thought.... She squeezes her thighs together tight. 

Bernie’s soft snore from behind startles her, and she shivers as the other woman nuzzles herself into the crook of her neck. She takes a deep breath, momentarily considering forgetting her resolve for Bernie not to see her naked until she at least finds some semi-decent underwear to put on. _I’ve waited this long, I can wait a few days more,_ she reminds herself. But she’ll be damned if every nerve in her body isn’t screaming out the contrary. 

Steadying herself, she interlinks her fingers with Bernie’s hand, rested gently against her stomach. She brushes her thumb across Bernie’s knuckles, gently coaxing her awake. 

“Mmm,” Bernie stirs, the vibrations from her hum again causing a shiver to run down Serena’s spine. She decides to try a different tact, turns in Bernie’s arms so that they’re face to face. 

Bernie Wolfe is beautiful when she sleeps. Every second of every day, Serena thinks that Bernie is the most beautiful woman ever to grace this earth, but something about the tranquility of sleep seems to make this shine all the brighter. Serena can’t resist, can’t help herself, presses her lips to Bernie’s in a tender kiss. 

“Mmmh.” Bernie’s eyelids finally flutter open, closing again as she relaxes into the new sensation of being woken up by Serena’s lips on hers. She lifts her arms, wraps them around Serena, holds her closer. 

“Good morning,” Serena murmurs, unable to tear her lips away. Bernie lets out a happy sigh, Serena taking advantage of this to slip her tongue past Bernie’s. With every gasped breath, she feels her body lighting up, heat spreading though the pit of her stomach and between her thighs. Before she realises what she’s doing, her hands have wandered down to clutch Bernie’s behind, grinding their hips together and eliciting a low moan from Bernie. 

“I thought we weren’t doing this,” she rasps, her voice still throaty with sleep. Serena nips at her bottom lip, for a moment wondering at her sudden confidence in how she allows her hands to roam all over the woman beside her before responding. 

“We’re not,” she breathes, her fingertips ghosting over the skin of Bernie’s bare thighs before lifting one around her waist. “But you’ve been teasing me for months. It’s only fair I should return the favour.” 

She chuckles as Bernie groans, her hands coming up to thread through Serena’s hair. “You’re trying to kill me,” she pants, breath hitching as Serena ruts against her.

With a wicked grin, Serena flips them over, her lips moving to Bernie’s ear. “Oh no, darling,” she purrs, her hot breaths making Bernie shiver. “I need you alive for what I’ve got planned for you.” 

Bernie whimpers, arching against Serena wantonly as her lips move to her throat. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this,” Serena continues, nipping and sucking at the base of Bernie’s neck, leaving little marks that her scrubs will only just be able to cover. “About you.” 

Bernie’s breath hitches as Serena continues, her hair tickling Bernie’s chin. 

“How long?” 

She feels almost nervous asking such a serious question, but she wants to know. Serena stops, looks up into Bernie’s eyes. 

“Well, let’s just say there was a good reason for me deciding to try out a lap dancing club.” 

“You knew I worked there?” Bernie asks with shock. 

“No,” Serena chuckles, shaking her head. “I... _someone_ had made me think that perhaps I wasn’t as heterosexual as I previously thought. I was walking past one night and thought maybe getting a lap dance would help... clarify things.”

Bernie almost looks worried. “And did it?” 

Serena arches an eyebrow. “Well, I’m here aren’t I?” She smiles. “Still, even if I hadn’t, I still think I would have ended up with you.” Her eyes flicker away, before looking back at her seriously. “Truth be told, I think I was already head over heels.” 

Bernie holds her gaze for a few moments, before looking away. “Uh, good. I, er, thought maybe— well, worried...” She stumbles over her words, her eyes anywhere but Serena’s face. “I worried that maybe _stripper Bernie_ was the, er... the Bernie you’d fallen for. Which is why I didn’t... I wanted to maybe ask you for dinner or something, a few times, but I didn’t know if that was the nature of our relationship.” 

Serena falters, her forehead creasing as she stares at the women beneath her. “You really thought that?” 

Bernie’s eyes turn away, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. “Well, I... I wasn’t sure if it was just a physical thing to you.” She meets Serena’s eye shyly. “I didn’t know if it was just... wishful thinking, that you’d feel like I did.” 

Serena shakes her head, her hand coming up to caress Bernie’s cheek. “No,” she whispers. “No, never.” She leans down, presses a chaste kiss to Bernie’s lips, before setting beside her, her head resting against Bernie’s shoulder. 

“I did try and tell you once,” Bernie confesses, resting her cheek on the top of Serena’s head. 

“Really?” 

“I think you might have been asleep,” Bernie sighs. “We were lying together after a dance and I suddenly felt very emotional, and it just came out. I said that… that I was falling in love with you. And when you didn’t reply I couldn’t bring myself to say it again. It felt too… too vulnerable.” 

Serena remembers suddenly the time they had been lying in the room, how she had though she heard Bernie murmur something but couldn’t make out what it was, was too tired to ask her to repeat it. 

“Oh,” is all she can think to say at this point. They lie there, contemplating, wondering what could have been. Serena wonders how she would have reacted, had she heard Bernie’s words. Would they have confessed all then and there, and spared themselves all the longing of the weeks gone by? Or would Serena have been scared, confused even, and fled? She thinks about how she’s feeling now, and has to admit to herself, she does feel scared. Suddenly being so open with Bernie was feeling quite overwhelming, and it terrifies Serena to think of the big changes ahead. They have been the best of friends for so long, and it pains her to think that all that might be lost, should this go wrong. 

She realises that she is digging herself into a hole with this thinking, and forces herself to relax. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she allows herself to focus on the warmth of Bernie beside her, on the gentle rise and fall of her chest, on the feeling of their fingers intertwined. And after a few moments, all that fear seems to drift away, her mind filled instead with only thoughts of how much she loves the woman next to her, and how right it feels to be laid here together, in companionable silence, enjoying the feeling of their bodies together. 

Serena is almost drifting off again when she hears Bernie’s stomach growl.

“Damn.”

Serena smiles to herself. “I said I’d make you breakfast.”

Bernie gives her a squeeze. “Thank you,” she murmurs against the top of her head. “I’m just going to hop in the shower.”

Sighing happily, Serena slowly starts to sit herself up, groaning as her back adjusts to the new angle. “I’ll have it ready for when you’re out.” 

Bernie nods, sits up too and rubs her eyes with a yawn before wandering to the bathroom. 

For a few moments, Serena allows herself to just sit, to take in her surroundings and how it felt to be here, in Bernie’s bedroom, for the first time. True to her assumptions, Bernie’s room was anything but tidy. Clothes lay strewn across the floor, as well as a larger pile that she was certain should be too heavy to be balanced on the back of a chair like that. There was a mirrored wardrobe, as well as a large chest of drawers with a mirror and hairdryer atop it. There were no photos or ornaments, unlike Serena’s room. She wonders if it is simply the fact that Bernie has not lived here very long that makes up for the lack of decor, but then thinks that it’s probably just not something that occurs to Bernie. She probably doesn’t see the point, for the amount of time she spends here.

Eventually she drags herself out to the kitchen and sets to work on making Bernie breakfast. Bernie doesn’t have much in the way of cooking utensils, but she manages to find enough that she can make them both the best part of a full english. She’s just turning off the hob when she hears the soft pad of footsteps, feels a warm body at her back. 

“Smells good,” Bernie comments, resting her chin on Serena’s shoulder. Serena smiles at how tactile Bernie is with her, when she knows it’s not something that comes too naturally to her.

“So do you,” Serena replies, getting a whiff of Bernie’s shampoo. 

“It’s supposed to be Argan Oil or something, I think. It was on offer. £1.60 a bottle." Bernie chuckles, pleased with herself. Serena turns in her arms, careful not to touch the hob. 

"Well, it smells divine," Serena says, pushing a damp strand of hair from Bernie's forehead. Smiling in return, Bernie dips down to steal a quick kiss from Serena, feels Serena’s gasp and how her body melts into her, and pulls away before things can get too out of hand. 

"Shall we eat?” 

They eat their breakfast at the table, chatting about anything and everything, just enjoying being in one another's company somewhere that isn't either work or the club. After that, Serena calls Jason to check on him and to tell him that she won't be back until later on that evening, making up an excuse about having to work on some trauma figures with Bernie. 

In reality, work is the last thing on their minds. They start off with innocent intentions, laying together on the sofa to watch a bit of mindless Sunday afternoon television, but they both know in the backs of their minds that that won’t last. 

Bernie stretches out with a little groan, her back to Serena and her hair ticking Serena’s nose. Serena’s hand is draped loosely over Bernie’s waist, drawing gentle circles with her thumb as she attempts to focus on the television - something that is proving quite difficult when she has Bernie’s perfect behind pushing against her crotch. And when she looks down at the mop of hair in front of her, her eyes catch sight of the most delicious looking expanse of flesh, just at the base of Bernie’s neck, and it would surely take a stronger woman than herself to resist. 

“Mmm,” Bernie hums softly, arching her neck to allow Serena better access. The other woman is only to happy to continue her work, a tender, wet trail of kisses up to Bernie’s ear, taking the lobe between her teeth and allowing her breath to tickle the shell of her ear in the way she knows makes her squirm. 

As predicted, Bernie writhes before her, her ass pushing back harder against Serena’s crotch as she does so. Serena gasps quietly, her hips pushing forward involuntarily, arm tightening around Bernie’s waist. She allows herself a soft hum of pleasure, right into Bernie’s ear, prompting a shiver and a whimper from the woman before her. Bernie arches her back, pushes more purposefully against Serena, and Serena nips at the skin along the back of her jaw. 

Then Bernie stops, turns her head, looks at Serena with those dark, lustrous eyes, flickering between Serena’s own and her lips, and it’s as though the world stops for one precious moment before Serena can’t take it any more and their mouths crash together, open and hungry and fierce. Bernie turns around, careful not to topple off the edge of the sofa, her fingers fisting in Serena’s hair and pulling her on top of her. Serena is only too happy to oblige, her whole body aching with want as their bodies mould together, legs entwined as they kiss with abandon. 

“Oh… Bernie…” Serena breathes between kisses, her hips rocking automatically as her arousal begins to burn. Bernie seems spurred on by this, moans loudly as she clutches Serena’s behind, ruts against her. 

“God…” Serena catches herself, pulls back into a sitting position as she straddles Bernie. The other woman is anything but put off, moving to sit upright too, her lips fastening at the base of Serena’s neck. 

“God, Bernie. The things you do to me; you make me feel so…” Serena pants, trailing off as Bernie continues to attack her neck with nips and kisses. Bernie growls in response, pulling Serena’s ass down to grind their hips together. 

“Well,” Bernie hums against her collar, nails dragging torturously up Serena’s spine. “You get what you give, darling.”

Serena moans again, reaches to Bernie’s chin and brings their lips back together. She’s never felt this level of hunger in all her life, and she’s not sure if she’ll be able to control it, not sure she wants to. Even now, clothed, she can tell just how wet she is, how desperate for Bernie’s touch, and she knows that Bernie is desperate for it too, even if she doesn’t say the words. By now, she knows exactly how Bernie looks when she’s turned on — cheeks tinted pink, eyes dark and shiny, chest flushed — and knows that if she were to reach down and dip her fingers below the waistband of Bernie’s shorts, she would be absolutely soaking for her. 

How easy it would be... She longs to reach down, to sink her finger deep into the woman before her and listen to and _feel_ her come around her fingers as she had last night. Is she allowed to do that now, after last night? She remembers her own words, her insistence that Bernie would not see her nude until she had dressed herself up a bit. But God... She’s burning, moaning like a cat in heat as she writhes and ruts against Bernie, as she feels her lips on her throat and her hands clutching her waist, and she decides that she can keep to her promise without leaving her itch unscratched. It’s nothing they haven’t done before, right? 

“Bernie...” She gasps as Bernie’s teeth nip at the base of her neck, her hands coming up to knot in Bernie’s hair. Bernie continues, kissing along her collar, her tongue darting out to taste the perspiration quickly dampening her skin. 

It takes Serena a moment, a moment to remember her thoughts, to think things through, and then she knows exactly what she wants, knows where her heart is and where she wants this to head. She reaches, grasps one of Bernie’s hands by the wrist and lifts it to her mouth, kisses each finger one by one. 

“Bernie, I want you... I _need_ you to touch me.” Serena throws her head back, suddenly lost in her arousal, her mind blank but for the need to achieve her release. “Please,” she begs, moving Bernie’s hand down to the waist of her pyjama shorts. 

“But,” Bernie stammers, her own eyes blurred with desperate want. “I thought we weren’t doing... this.” 

Serena bites her lip, shakes her head with a wicked grin. “I said you weren’t seeing my naked, darling,” she purrs, her lips grazing Bernie’s, hips rocking in a steady rhythm. “I’m keeping true to that promise.” 

Bernie nods, then pauses. “Just promise me one thing,” she breathes, shaking with the need to touch Serena but managing to hold back, for now. “The reason you don’t want me to see you... Please tell me it’s not because you feel self conscious, or anything of the sort. You know you’re the most beautiful thing on the planet to me—“

“It’s not,” Serena interrupts, slowing slightly. “I just... I want it to be special, the first time, so I would very much like to be in a better state of dress.” She smiles warmly at Bernie, kisses the corner of her mouth, then moves her hips more pointedly. “But now... Oh God Bernie if you don’t touch me now I think I might die I’ve waited so long for this.” Her words come out in a rush on a single breath and Bernie lets out a sharp gasp as Serena’s lips fall to her neck, hips rocking and breaths erratic. There is no more hesitation as she dips her fingers below the waistband of Serena’s shorts, grazes through the wiry curls she finds and straight into throbbing, wet, burning heat. Serena’s breath catches in her throat, the rhythm of her hips faltering momentarily as she feels Bernie’s fingers against her for the very first time. 

“Oh... Oh....” 

She sucks in a sharp breath through her nose as Bernie explores, deft fingers circling her clit and making her whole body feel alight. Has she ever been this sensitive, this close with barely a touch? She feels as though she might implode, can see herself gushing all over Bernie’s hand and can’t bring herself to care if she does. Riding Bernie’s hand like this feels so... She can’t put a word to it. All she can think is that she never wants this to end, wants to feel this forever. 

She grunts in agony as Bernie’s hand slips away. 

“Wha—“

“Cramp,” Bernie bites her lip apologetically. “Can we rearrange things?” 

Gently, Bernie guides Serena around, squishes herself back so that she’s nestled into the corner of the sofa and moves Serena to perch between her legs, her back pressed against Bernie’s chest. Bernie’s lips find Serena’s ear as a sticky hand ghosts across the worn cotton covering Serena’s stomach, back down to the waistband of her shorts. 

“Much better.” Her voice is low in Serena’s ear, fingers homing in straight on Serena’s clit this time and the other woman arches in front of her, her head lolling back onto Bernie’s shoulder as her hips move erratically. Bernie brings her other hand up to Serena’s chest, grins as she finds Serena has foregone underwear beneath her pyjamas and finds a nipple standing hard through the thin fabric, circles and pinches it as Serena keens and wails. 

“Bernie... Oh!” 

She sucks in a deep breath as Bernie’s fingertips circle her entrance, and before she can beg Bernie sinks two fingers deep inside, curls and thrusts them until Serena is seeing stars. 

“Oh, Bernie,” she pants, craning her neck as Bernie attacks it with kisses, marvels at her co-lead’s ability to multitask. “Yes... Oh, God yes.”

“Mmm, you feel so good, Serena,” Bernie whispers into her ear. “You’re so good, so beautiful. I’ve waited so long to touch you, to feel you come around my fingers. Can you do that for me?”

Bernie’s thumb finds her clit, two fingers still inside, and Serena loses all power of rational thought, is jerking and gasping and howling until suddenly it becomes too much. She feels herself rising, expanding, her whole body tightening and her limbs shaking until finally she explodes, contracting around Bernie’s fingers, coming in her hand. Her whole body is sticky with perspiration, her hair stuck to her forehead, and for minutes she just slumps back against Bernie, listening vaguely as the other woman whispers praise, tells her how wonderful, how beautiful and utterly irreplaceable she is. She thinks she hears another ’I love you’ in there, the first since their late night confession at the club, but her brain is too foggy to recollect. 

“Bernie...” She eventually manages to murmur, shivering as she feels Bernie’s lips on her neck. 

“Yes, darling?” Bernie says softly, wrapping her arms around Serena’s middle and tugging her closer, holding her tightly, as if she would otherwise drift away. 

“Can we... can we go lie down?”

Bernie nods, her chin rested on Serena’s shoulder. “Of course. Come on.” 

Serena stands shakily, waiting until Bernie interlinks their fingers to lead her to the bedroom. The curtains in the room are still drawn, and though some light shines around the edges the room is still largely in darkness. Bernie clicks on her bedside lamp, the room suddenly more cosy filled with its warm glow, and they huddle beneath the covers together, duvet pulled up to their necks. Serena reaches out a leg, intertwines it with Bernie’s as her hand reaches for hers, and they simply gaze at one another, heads sharing the same pillow. 

“I still can’t quite believe this is happening,” Serena whispers, suddenly feeling choked up. “After all this time.” 

“I know,” Bernie replies, her voice a soft murmur. “It’s a lot to take in. A big change.”

“It is.” Serena bites her lip. “I’m excited about it.” She pauses a moment, deciding to be honest. “But also a little...” She searches for the right word. 

“Daunted?” Bernie offers, her eyes shining. 

Serena nods. “Yes. Not in a regretful way, just...” She takes a second to arrange her thoughts, to word exactly what it is she wants to say. “Every relationship I’ve ever had has fallen apart. But none of them have ever started this way.” She takes a shaky breath. “You’re my best friend. I’ve never felt so... connected with someone, the way I am with you. I suppose what I’m trying to say is: if we fell apart, I’d be losing so much more than I’ve had to before, even with my marriage. And I’m so terrified by that. I can’t bear the thought of us ever not being friends.” 

It’s a moment or two before Bernie replies, her voice suddenly thick. “Me too,” is all she manages at first, never breaking eye contact. “I’m scared too,” she whispers, squeezing Serena’s hand. “But I want this more than anything in the world. I’ve longed for you for so long.” A pause. “I’ve never felt so able to be open… so unconditionally accepted.” She looks down momentarily. “I told you I used to dance for Marcus and Alex but… when they first found out neither of them reacted well. Marcus made me quit as soon as he found out and Alex used to joke about me being an ex-whore or whatever other derogatory term she decided to use. But you… You respected me. You understood.” 

Serena dips her head forward, rests their foreheads against one another. “I would never dream of judging you or holding you back.”

“I’m thinking of packing it in. I spoke to them before I left.”

Serena frowns, pulling back. “Not because of me?” 

“No,” Bernie shakes her head. “No. Well, no exactly. Just… something you said made me realise that perhaps it’s time to retire.” 

Serena’s eyebrows knit together in question. 

“You asked me if I was okay with being groped all the time in my job, about how that made me feel and… although it doesn’t really bother me, I think maybe I’m a bit old to be swatting away the hands of boys young enough to be my children for a living. And anyway, I work too much and I think I have a much better way to be spending my evenings now.” She grins, brushing her calf against Serena’s to illustrate her point. Serena chuckles. 

“Well, I can’t fault your thinking there,” she smirks, unconsciously inching closer to her. “But what about the divorce? The money?”

Bernie bites her lip. “I have a confession,” she starts. “I made back the money months ago. I was only going to work another month until you showed up and gave me the best possible reason to stay.” Serena shakes her head with a fond smile.

“Just as long as you’re not quitting because you think that I would feel uncomfortable in having a relationship with you whilst you’re working. Do what makes you happiest.”

“ _This_ makes me happiest,” Bernie grins, dropping Serena’s hand and wrapping her arms around her middle, pulling her to her and burying her face in her neck as Serena giggles. 

“I love you, Serena Campbell.”

“I love you, Berenice Wolfe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know if it was worth the wait x


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